The Making of Heroes
by Natalie Rushman
Summary: "We were raised together. We played together. We fought together. Do you remember none of that?" -"I remember a shadow."
1. Chapter 1 - Acceptance

We are now inside the 100 day mark. There are officially 99 days until ThorII comes out. I will attempt to update every five to ten days until then. I can't promise anything, my schedule is crazy ;)

Anyway, the exchange on the mountain between Thor and Loki has fascinated me since the first time I saw 'The Avengers', and this is my attempt to explain how they both have a point. The stories are mainly Loki-centric, and almost all occur during Thor and Loki's childhood. I'll try and post rough age parameters as I go. The way I play it, Thor's about three years older than Loki.

~.~

"How best to make a hero? Give him a means of defining himself, so mold a villain beside him."

~.~

A huge man, tall, blood stained, weary, walked down the crystalline bridge toward the city. His men had gone ahead. He had told them that he would come alone. There were things it were better the men not know. His head was bowed, one weary eye contemplating the bridge he walked down. The Bifrost. It was a glorious thing. The 'rainbow bridge' that connected his kingdom, Asgard, with all the other realms.

The socket where the left eye had been up until only two days previously, ached beneath the crude bandage their healer had knotted over it. The battle had been fierce, and the healing stones they had brought were for more pressing injuries. The healer had protested, but numerous lives had been saved by his action. He would not regret that. Not for all the eyes in the Nine Realms.

He leaned heavily on his war spear as he walked. Gungnir, symbol of his power and kingship. It had been passed to him from his Father, Bor, and would be passed on to his son – who was still _so_ young - one day, when he chose to relinquish the kingship.

The King raised his head, a gentle wind brushing back his long hair and riffling through his beard. The walls and palace he ruled glittered in the sun, flashing and shining. A deep sense of peace settled in his heart. Always he was troubled by the loss of life, by the blood and destruction brought about by war, but this sight, Asgard, untroubled by carnage, reminded him why it was necessary.

The wind picked up and tugged at the torn, blood-stained grey fabric that served him as cloak and he held it to him with the hand that remained close against his side. He looked down, haltingly - almost unwillingly - at the thing he held. Yes. It was a good thing that he had let the men go ahead of him. This would be something that would puzzle them greatly.

He wasn't sure himself why he had done it.

He had closed the treaty with the injured Jotun king, Laufi, and went out of the ice-cold ruins that had once been the Frost-Keep to tell his men of the news. He had gone in alone to deal with Laufi, and alone he came out. But the blood sickened him. The blood and the stench and the death-cries and agony that war always brought about. It sickened him that it was only now that he should see them and understand their horror. His youth had lasted over-long. But his men need not know of the guilt that clawed at him as he witnessed the destruction. They need not witness his grief. As he walked toward their camp, he came across the remains of the temple. It had largely been overlooked by the men as they tore through the city, lying, for the most part, undisturbed – a sanctuary.

Slipping inside - some unknown force guiding him as a dog on a leash - he had wandered through the rocks, grimacing at the fearsome images chiseled into the ice-coated walls. A weak sound caught at his attention and he turned - not alarmed, but searching for the origin of the disturbance. A strange sense of urgency settled heavily on him and he scoured the structure, pushing aside ruble and peering around great pillars.

Finally, he found it. A tiny Jotun child. It was Laufi's son, judging by the markings across the blue-black skin of the babe's forehead. The child was small - too small - and he realized with horror that the infant had been left here to die. A sacrifice. Mayhap a sacrifice for victory in the battle. The child must not have been left long; he was still alive, though not by much. It's loud cry that had alerted him to it's life had faded to a whimper. The movements of it's – his – tiny limbs was weak. The weakness and innocence of the abandoned child twisted his heart. What was it that made this child so different from his own son? His own hands, still stained dark with long-since dried blood went out reflexively to lift the boy from the floor, but hurriedly he drew back and fled the temple. The child was a Jotun. It was none of his concern.

A cheer had gone up from his men at the news of their completed agreement, but the AllFather had barely been able to hear it, what with the blood that swam in his thoughts and the vision of the babe, left to die in the temple that had been blazoned into the underside of his sole eyelid. So haunted was he by the image, that he had sent the men home ahead of him - told Hoenir, his foolish, loyal brother, that he would come in a moment. Hoenir was concerned, leaving his king alone on a hostile realm was against both his nature and training, but the AllFather had insisted with something near desperate urgency. The child might not have time. And reluctantly, Hoenir and the men had gone.

Half knowing what it was he did, the king had watched the men depart, then, soon as they had rightly gone, he whirled on his heel, cloak swirling out behind him, and rushed back to the temple.

The child lay still on the floor, and for a moment he thought he had been too long in coming, but the infant's small body rose and fell with his breathing, all energy focused on the immediate need for survival.

The AllFather reached out his hands, allowing himself no time for further deliberation, and took up the boy - so small - so fragile. Tentatively, afraid to hurt the child further, he channeled a kind of healing magic through the palms of his hands and into the tiny body. He wasn't yet very good at it – it hadn't been long since he had begun learning from the Vanir – but he didn't know what other chance the babe had. The child twitched and opened his eyes, looking all around, disoriented, but then found the AllFather's face, and the little thing smiled.

He hardly noticed the expression, so caught up was he with the unexpected side effect of his healing. The boy's skin had faded to a soft pale color - akin to his own - becoming soft as an Aesir - his eyes fading from the red-orange of his kind to the white that was common to the Aesir, irises swirling from deep red to emerald green.

The AllFather looked down at the tiny thing, sleeping in his arms now as the wind died out around him on the bridge, a strange feeling of fate settling once more around him. Yes, the Norns had been busy _this_ day.

After the child's transformation, he had gathered the little thing up, wrapping him in a spare cloak and had used Gungnir to manipulate the portal that would allow him to go home.

"Odin!" the AllFather's head shot up to see a figure running toward him on the bridge, skirt caught up in both hands as she came, a look part of worry, part of immeasurable relief on her beautiful face. It was his Queen, Frigga. Her amber curls flew out behind her as she ran to meet him. "You're back!" she cried, "Oh! I was so worried!" her arms came up around his back and he put his free arm around her, careful to avoid both hitting her with the spear, and allowing her to crush the burden he held. "But oh, your poor eye!" she had fluttered away from him, keeping close by, hands on his arms, his shoulders, his face, "does it hurt?"

Odin was weary. Her fretting was sweet, almost comforting, but it did nothing to ease his weariness. Rather than waste the words to explain to her what it was he had done, he shifted the cloak and revealed to her the child.

"Wh – what's this?" then she saw it for what it was and both her hands flew up to her mouth with a sharp gasp.

"I found him in the Temple."

One hand came down from her face going out as if to touch the child, then coming quickly back as if the air surrounding him had burned her, "A Jotun?" Her gaze tore away from the sleeping babe up to his face, eyes round and shocked.

The AllFather nodded, feeling that all he needed to do was to sleep for several eons, "His coloring will fade back to its natural shade when in contact with his own people, but since he is so young, the change may be somewhat permanent."

"You stole a Jotun baby?"

"Laufi's son."

"_Laufi's son?_"

"He is too small, unhealthy by their standards. If I hadn't come when I did this child would be dead."

Her brows were knit together in a worried frown, "But he belongs with his own people,"

Having been so unsure of the purpose behind his actions himself, her inability to understand angered him, and his voice was much louder than he had meant it to be, "Do you not understand me, Frigga? If he had been left to his people, he would have died. I have given him a chance at life. Are you saying that I have done wrong?"

The way she looked at the child was almost furtive, as though he frightened her, "No."

"You are a woman. You have never seen war. You have no knowledge of what it is we face when we go to defend our homes. You have no knowledge of the smell of blood and death and the life fading out of the eyes of your enemy and of your friend beside you. You've never heard the screams, the pleading of those about to die. And out of all the blood, I saw _one_ good thing, _one_ pure child. Are you telling me I am wrong to have saved him? Or should I have abandoned him to die among his kin?"

At the sound of his shouting, the child began to squirm, raising his voice in a thin squalling that drew the young queen's full attention, "You've waked him!" she scolded. She came toward the child, sighing in exasperation, "You're holding him wrong. Give him to me."

Marveling at the changeableness and unpredictability of women, Odin silently relinquished his mewling burden.

"He's cold!"

He was a Frost Giant, "Of course he's cold,"

Frigga glared at him, slate-grey eyes snapping fiercely, "He shouldn't be cold." Tucking the cloak more snuggly around the babe, she lifted her eyes back to his face, "I have seen more of war than you know," she turned on her heel and started toward the city. After a moment, Odin followed her, easily matching her quick strides.

After a brief time, she spoke, her voice calm, "What do you call him?"

It struck him how taken with the child his young wife had become, the tender way she held him, the softness in her eyes, "We won't keep him, Frigga. We can give him to one of the serv-"

Frigga cut him off sharply, "If you think that I will allow you to tear this child away from his home and then throw him at some other to be raised, you are mistaken, _AllFather_."

She used his title in a mockery that he would never tolerate from another, but she was his woman, and he rather liked it from her. He was reminded suddenly why he loved this woman above all others. He watched her with the child as they stepped off of the Bifrost and into the city itself, the way they smiled at each other and how he reached up to her face with his tiny white hands. Again the strange whispering of fate clawed around his ears and he shook his head to rid himself of it.

"He could be useful someday," he mused aloud, mostly to distract himself from the eerie feeling that had haunted him since he first found the babe, "He could make a powerful tool against Laufi,"

Frigga scoffed at him disapprovingly, "Speak not of 'tools' and 'usefulness' and 'someday'. Today, this child is your child. Would you speak of Thor thus?"

"No, of course not. I –"

"Then refrain from speaking of your second son in that way." The child cooed up at her, smiling in the fetching, toothless way of earliest childhood, "Oh, my sweet new boy!" Frigga kissed him on his forehead. Odin was - once more - astounded at the fickleness of women. Not five minutes ago she had been frightened of the child.

"What do you call him?" she asked him again, stroking the babe's tiny hand.

The AllFather chuckled, dismissing the problem of women in general as unsolvable, "I was thinking we might call him 'Bernhard', or mayhap, 'Gunthar'," in truth, the thought of names had not yet occurred to him, but they were good names all the same.

Frigga grimaced.

"How do they meet with your displeasure? They are good and strong, the names of warriors."

"They don't suit him."

"What would you have him called?"

Frigga thought about it for a moment, tipping her pretty head to one side, "'Loki'" she nodded briskly, "I would call him, 'Loki'."

"Why 'Loki', my Queen?"

She eyed him suspiciously at the title, gauging how seriously to take his mockery, but he kept his expression sober and in the end she answered, "He is a cold thing that needs warmth, 'Loki', means 'fire'. Also, our first son is named, 'Thor', 'thunder'. So if our first son is 'thunder', then the son to follow him should match. He can be the 'fire' that follows in the lightning, silent and swift and deadly as our Thor is loud and sudden and deafening."

"You make a convincing argument," The AllFather tipped his head back in mock thought - he meant to let her have her way - had from the beginning of the conversation, but it was best that she not know that, "Alright," he ceded, "'Loki' he shall be."

Frigga caressed the child's face lightly with the finger-tips of her free hand, "Hello, Loki," she crooned.

Odin remembered how she had been with Thor, when he was as small as the child she now carried, remembered how she would look at him just as she looked at Loki now, with all of a mother's care and fierce love, "You do understand that he is not truly our child,"

"Oh posh," Frigga rolled her eyes, "I gave him no birth. Besides that he is as much our child now as Thor is. If you were not prepared to take him unreservedly, you had no business taking him at all."

"I will remember that the next time,"

She eyed him reproachfully, then turned back to the child, twisting him in her arms that he might see the golden hall towering to the sky before them, "Welcome home, Loki," she breathed beside his ear, "See? This will be your home."

There was a pattering of feet from the hall to their left as they entered the magnificent building, "Father!" Thor came running down the pavement, faster than any knee-high child before him had ever gone, followed hurriedly by his nurse who was breathing hard in her attempts at keeping up with the boisterous youth, "Father, you're home!"

Odin crouched down and opened his arms to catch his young son who threw himself unreservedly into them as his mother laughed behind them. Thor's eyes flickered to her over Odin's broad shoulder, bright and blue and excited, "What have you got, mother? Is it a present? Did Father bring it to you?"

"Yes, Thor," Frigga knelt down so her elder son could see the child, "His name is Loki. He is to be your brother."

Thor raised his eyebrows, nodding appreciatively, "Can he play with me?"

Loki made a grab for Thor's long yellow hair and Frigga stood up, "Not yet, he's too small, but he will."

"Hm." Thor thought about it, then turned back to his father, raising his arms in a plea to be lifted. Wearily, Odin obliged. Thor peered into the bundle to get a better look at the child, his little face screwed up in thought, "You're not much good yet," he informed his brother comfortingly, "but you'll get there."


	2. Chapter 2 - Endearment

Thor - roughly 3 or 4-ish Loki - infant

Chapter Two -Endearment

Frigga sat on a low stool, watching Thor play with his blocks. So far he had managed to build several tall - albeit unsteady - towers and was marching a little army of pinecones through the resulting 'halls'. Loki was cooing, happily watching the older boy from his vantage point on her lap, bright eyes following every movement his big brother made.

The child had grown strong in the months since his arrival, strong and healthy - and warm - which pleased her most of all. His skin was still cool to the touch, much more so than most children, but he no longer felt _cold_, and this comforted her.

He was a more still child than Thor had been, very content to sit and watch the antics of those around him, babbling to himself, and often to her, in his own soft language. He would turn to her and say things - just as if he knew exactly what it was he was saying and had no doubts that she would understand. And she never disappointed him, always nodding and exclaiming fondly.

Thor had never spoken to her thus. Even now, he rarely spoke. He was all movement and action. Thor could walk months before he said his first real word. Loki wasn't like that, Frigga could tell that now, even before he had tried.

There was only one thing left that troubled her. The AllFather. Odin was still cold toward their second son. She couldn't understand it, he was a helpless child, and one that the AllFather had not only rescued, but persuaded her to allow them to keep. She couldn't see how his outlook had changed so drastically. She knew that the AllFather loved his second son, he just couldn't accept him yet in the way that she had. She had thought he would come around once the shock of her stubbornness in personally raising the boy had worn off, but that seemed to not be the case. She prayed that it would be less obvious as Loki grew up. Now - _now -_ he was too young to know the difference, but that would not always be true.

There was a crash and Thor yelled, dropping down from his knees to a collapsed yet upright position on the floor, hitting himself in the head with his tiny fists.

Frigga's head shot up, assessing the situation, the towers that had collapsed in on themselves, and her little son who wasn't taking their destruction very well.

"Thor," she began, but was cut off by a strange chuffing sound from the baby. She looked down at him, not entirely sure that he wasn't choking on something – what, she had no idea, but something – and was brought up short by the delighted grin spread all across his tiny features. Then it dawned on her and she smiled, "Thor, he's laughing!"

Thor either didn't hear, or didn't care - possibly both. He gave a dramatic sigh, rolling his blue eyes heavenward and tugging at his long blonde hair in frustration.

Now that Loki had begun laughing, it didn't appear that he could stop.

Frigga couldn't help it – she laughed too.

It didn't matter to Thor, he was in a world all his own. He took a block in his hand and, glaring at it murderously, banged it with all his strength against the floor.

Loki, who had finally caught his breath, doubled over once more with a little shriek.

Looking with a contented smirk at the block in his hand, Thor nodded his head – he'd shown _that_ block – and happily laid it on the open patch of ground to his right, where he immediately began reconstruction of his city as if nothing had happened.

Frigga sighed and turned back to her younger son, bouncing him up and down on her knee as he twisted to face her and began telling her what it was that had been so funny. She smiled at him and nodded, as delighted with the attention he gave her as he was with hers. Finally, he yawned, and, chuckling to himself, laid his head against her breast. She cradled his head against her in her palm, rocking slowly back and forth as she hummed to him. Thor had almost never let her do this. He had never been a good sleeper. It would get to the point where she and his nurse would take turns with him, up and down every night, pacing into the wee hours of the dawn. Eventually, one night, the AllFather had had enough. He had taken his son over his own shoulder and marched him up and down himself, until finally, the boy had dropped off. Frigga didn't know how Odin had done it, but however he had, it had become a nightly ritual up until very recently. Even now Thor was a light sleeper. Not Loki. Loki could sleep through almost anything. He also seemed to have a special preference for her, which made her very happy. She had missed that about Thor, always longing to cuddle him. Loki let her catch up on time lost.

She felt him grow limp and heavy and slowly she stopped her rocking. His little body pressed up against her as she watched her elder son play happily with his newly constructed city and his advancing pinecone host.

And the young queen smiled.

~.~

Thor marched back and forth across the room, brandishing the crude wooden sword his father had given him. As he had been, fairly consistently, since he had been given it two days ago. He had built a 'wall' by pulling together several small benches in a line, filling in the areas that to his mind needed them with his blocks. He set up a stool inside the wall, then ran to where Frigga sat - Loki playing happily at her feet - as she did her needle-work. Thor tugged at her skirt, blue eyes bright, "Come Mother! You _must_ come! The Frost Giants will soon be upon us!"

A twinge of guilt pricked at her heart as she cast a glance at Loki where he sat contentedly chattering to himself. It did not sit well with her that the boys were not to be told. Yes, they were young, but might it not be better this way? That they know all from the start? But the AllFather did not see it thus. And not only was he her husband, he was the king of Asgard, master of the Nine Realms. His will was not to be tested.

"You must come, Mother. And bring my brother. It will not be safe."

Pushing the thoughts aside and chuckling at his persistence, Frigga tucked the needle safely into the cloth where it wouldn't prick any, and scooped Loki from the floor, much to his dismay, and hurried after her elder son to the seat he had set up for her behind his wall.

"Do not be afraid." Thor said, his eyes genuinely concerned, "I will protect you." He turned to Loki who was once more seated at Frigga's feet grumbling in some disgust at the move, and crouched down. He reached out and tapped Loki under the chin, getting brief eye-contact out of the little thing. "Loki," he said slowly, very seriously, "Brother, this will be very dangerous. There are many enemies. Don't tell Mother, I don't want her to be afraid."

The baby was ignoring him completely, knocking together the blocks gripped in his tiny hands. He gave a happy little shriek.

Thor shook his head, "No, Brother. You cannot come with me. Not this time. You have to protect Mother if they get me. Will you defend her?"

Loki clapped one hand against the block he held in the other, grinning up at Thor.

"Good." Thor smiled, straightening. Shouldering his sword, he clambered over his wall and began pacing.

Frigga began her sewing once again, both touched at her little son's words, and troubled that one day they might grow up to live the enactment they – rather – _Thor_ - now made.

Thor continued pacing for a long time. Sometimes he would run across the room, shouting fiercely and flailing his weapon. Often this would spiral into a full fledged fight where he was spinning and jumping, cries of, 'for Asgard', ringing out across the enclosed space of the room. Occasionally, he would be injured, falling to the ground and clutching at some wound, calling to his invisible companions to keep fighting while he ran to fix his hurt. Frigga gave him long scraps of cloth she had no further use for, and soon he was festooned in these banners of valor. They flapped and waved in the breeze he generated by his unending movement. One bandage, he wrapped over his eye. He couldn't tie it and he had to come to her for help. But once she had helped him he couldn't help running into things and so finally gave the idea up. He brought the bandage back to her, "Father knows magic, Mother," he said matter-of-factly, "that's how he doesn't fall down." He gave her a lopsided grin before vaulting back into the fray.

After some time, Frigga began to notice her brave little defender stumbling more often, and she called for a brief truce. Thor turned to her, confused, "Don't I do well, Mother?"

"Yes," she smiled, "But you are tired and every warrior must rest. Besides, you have fought so well that there are many wounded, see them all?" she gestured to the empty room, praying that he couldn't see them they way she could. She had seen over-much of war, "You must give them a chance to remove them from the field."

"There aren't any wounded, Mother," Thor said matter-of-factly, starring out across the clear floor, gripping his sword, "I killed them all good and dead to keep you safe." He looked up to her and shrugged, "If I kill them, they can't come back to hurt you, see?"

He shouldered his sword and turned away from the 'field', "They're all running away now anyway, 'cause they're all scared of me."

"Well who wouldn't be?" Frigga asked him as he began to climb over the wall, "you are a great warrior."

He looked up at her, brow creased in sudden worry, "You're not scared of me, are you?"

Frigga laughed, "Of course not, Thor. I am very proud."

Thor smiled then and swung his leg over the chair he had straddled, intending to slip into the space that served as the castle, but he fell and knocked down a good portion of the blocks beneath the chair on his way, landing hard on his hands and knees. He cried out - more in frustration at the wreckage than pain - she realized, and set about immediately to repair the damage.

Loki had been startled out of his play by the sudden crash, and now seemed to have no interest in it. He watched his brother rebuild the walls, cooing and talking in his soft little words, then pausing as if expecting Thor to give answer.

"Mother!" Frigga snapped upright to where Thor was looking at her in puzzled delight a few moments later, "I think he's trying to talk to me!"

She blinked over at Loki who was watching Thor, startled as she at the older boy's sudden movement and outburst. He got over his shock quickly, "T-or," he said, in a little sing-song, "Tor!" when Thor turned to peer into his little face, he smiled and clapped his hands.

"What is it Loki?"

"Tor!"

"What do you want?"

Loki laughed.

"Mother," Thor looked up at her again, frustrated, "he won't tell me what he wants."

Frigga smiled at her boys, "He can't yet, Thor. He doesn't know the words to say it."

"But he wants _some_thing, doesn't he?"

She looked over to where Loki was delightedly clapping his hands, green eyes sparking up at his brother, very pleased with himself at this latest achievement of his, "I think he just wants you to pay attention to him."

Thor peered back into the tiny face, "Do you want to help me?"

Loki laughed.

Taking this as an affirmative, Thor pushed a pile of the blocks toward him, "Here, stack them up like this," he leaned out and added his block to the pile.

Loki knocked two blocks together.

"No Loki, like this,"

Loki ignored him, grinning up at her, "Tor!"

Frigga smiled at him over her needle-work.

Impatient, Thor snatched the block from his little brother who very promptly began to cry.

"Thor," Frigga said, "give it back to him,"

"I have to build my wall." Thor folded his arms across his chest, "But here. He can hold this." He thrust his sword toward the little boy who stopped crying with a startled whimper. He blinked at his big brother with a look that was near-on reproachful, then began to chew on the sword, muttering to himself.

Thor didn't notice, fully intent on the wall.

Finally, the last block was in place and Thor went back on his heels, fists on his hips, surveying his work with great satisfaction.

"See Loki," he said, not quite turning around, "like that." He turned then and his brows darted down, "No, Brother, you're not supposed to _eat_ it!"

His hand shot out and he took the sword.

Loki blinked at him in surprise for a minute, then put out his lower lip, big tears rolling down his cheeks before he started howling in good earnest, rubbing at his face with tiny fists.

Thor glared darkly at him, inspecting the sword for damage.

"Thor," Frigga set aside the fabric and gathered the wailing boy to her breast.

"But Mother, he was going to break it!"

"There was nothing he could have done to break it if he had tried, Thor," she turned back to Loki who had hidden his face in some fold of her gown near her shoulder, "Shh, Loki, it's alright," she stroked the little back, "I think it's time for a rest."

"No!" Thor stomped his foot, "I won't go!"

Frigga rose and took him firmly by the arm. Thor knew better, even as young as he was, than to argue further. She put him in his room and shut the door, then went across the hall to Loki's room and slipped down onto a chair, rocking her younger son back and forth until he fell asleep. She laid him in his bed, running a hand up gently though the dark feathering of hair on his head. She shut the door behind her and paused outside of Thor's. Everything was quiet. Cautiously, she opened the door and peered in. Thor had fallen asleep on the floor, wooden sword clutched in his hand and half-crushed under his body. His breathing was slow and rhythmic, face flushed.

Frigga shut the door quietly and went to retrieve her needle-work.

Loki had only been with them for a few months, but already she couldn't imagine life without her boys.


	3. Chapter 3 - Enkindle

This was getting wearisome. They had been at it since well before sunup – dayspring – as the Vanir called it - hammering out negotiations and terms. It was one of the many setbacks of having dealings with the Vanir, Odin thought. They had no king, but a council, and it seemed against the nature of their council to agree about any one thing. They could hardly bid one another a good day without finding some fault.

"Tedious, isn't it?" a voice said, a little behind him and to his left.

Odin turned, "Kvasir, my friend, where have you been all this time?"

"Greetings, AllFather," Kvasir gave a shallow bow, "Truth be told, avoiding this," he gave the arguing council members a wry look, "but I heard you had returned and it seemed good to me to risk my senses by coming." There was a sudden flare in the conversation by the edge of the great balcony. Kvasir watched over Odin's shoulder, eyebrows raised, mildly amused. The warm winds of Vanaheim floated through the open room, ruffling fabrics and hair, "How do you manage?" Odin asked his friend, pitching his voice very quiet, to avoid being heard by the nearest council members, "All is talk and argumentation,"

"Oh don't bother," Kvasir laughed, waving a hand dismissively, "they couldn't hear you if you screamed fire."

Odin chuckled.

"Don't laugh, I've tried it." Kvasir grimaced, "It is a true problem. There was a time when their system of government worked beautifully. Now, well," he leaned over to peer around Odin at the assembled council members once again, "I'm just surprised they haven't gotten to throwing each other over the balcony," he shook his head, "They sorely need a king."

"Have you suggested it?"

"To _that_ crowd of cannibals?" Odin caught a council-man looking suspiciously in their direction and nearly smiled, "No. I haven't. It's best, I find, to let them come up with these things themselves. Should the right man step forward I'm sure they will be quick enough to take him."

There was a lull, and both men turned, but the silence was short-lived. Kvasir sighed, "Just when I was beginning to get my hopes up. How long have they been at this?"

"The past three days."

"_Three_-" Kvasir spluttered, then shook his head, "No, no. I'm not surprised. I just hope they come to an agreement before the next moon."

~.~

Frigga sighed wearily. Hugin had come to her, not many days ago, informing her that the negotiations were nearly completed. But 'nearly completed' hardly seemed soon enough. Odin had been gone for _so_ long, and the pressures of directing the realm weighed heavily upon her. If it hadn't been for Fulla and her ability to look after the affairs of the palace, Frigga didn't know what she would have done.

"Mama, why _can't_ I go?"

Frigga did not set down her pen or look up. This was becoming a recurring pattern, "Loki, please stop whining."

The child was quiet a moment, kicking his heels against the trunk he had perched himself on, then began again, "But _why_?"

"You are too young."

All was quiet once more, and when she glanced up, the boy had turned around, his feet tucked under him, and was staring dismally out of the window at the pouring rain. She remembered Thor at his age. Thor had always been up to something, never bored like this, "Why don't you go see if any of the other children want to play?"

"I don't want to."

"Whyever not?"

Loki shrugged.

Frigga wondered if he was coming down with something again. It worried her. Loki was small for his age, and often sick. Odin had told her what The Witch had said, that it was by magic all his own that Loki had first shifted to their kind, but she couldn't help wondering if these things – so uncommon to a giant – (she _hated_ to think of him like that) – were a subconscious attempt by the same magic to prove that he wanted nothing to do with his birth-kind. It would explain the way he avoided the cold, and his sensitive little heart.

"Why can't I go to lessons?" he swiveled around to face her, "I could sit still and do just what Hlin told me to,"

Frigga rose and came across the room to her little boy, setting aside business for a time. "Hlin has her hands full with your brother, Loki." She sat down on the trunk beside him and scooped him into her lap, pressing her hand against his forehead – but no – his skin was cool, as was usual for him.

"Why does Thor have to go? He doesn't even like it. Why can't he stay home?"

It was sweet, Frigga thought, how the child missed him. Thor was only gone for a brief time each day, to learn his letters with her maidservant, Hlin, but during that time Loki was almost always miserable. She wished it didn't have to be thus, that she could teach Thor herself, as she had always thought she would, but with Odin gone, there was no time. She tried to change tactics, "Why don't you go and play?"

"I don't want to."

"Why not?"

He looked at her reproachfully, like she should know it was a stupid question, "'s no fun by myself,"

"But there are other children to play with, Loki, other children your own age, who don't have lessons yet. You could play with them,"

Loki scowled, "I don't want to." He looked away.

Frigga sighed, running her fingers through his dark, dark hair. She didn't understand his reluctance, and wished he could find a friend of his own. She loved how attached he was to his elder brother, but he was so much younger, she hardly thought it would suit well when he grew older. Norns knew - perhaps it would suit better. He was such a shy little thing. She sighed. Mayhap it was something he would grow out of. He leaned back against her, staring out of the window, putting his thumb absently into his mouth. It was a habit he had begun to give up some time ago, but it still found its way in sometimes, when he wasn't paying attention, or was very upset. Fulla told her that she should make him stop, it wasn't becoming in a prince. She knew her sister was probably right, and she meant always to do something, but she never did. She thought it sweet, and her boys were already growing up so fast.

~.~

"Thor, I need you to focus,"

Thor didn't move, but starred up at the high ceiling of the room. Hlin sounded like she was getting angry, but that usually didn't mean anything. He could continue to ignore it. He didn't like lessons. They were boring. Right now he was imagining a big spider in the crack between the ceiling and the wall. That was much more fun. He had just about convinced himself that it was real when Hlin pulled him upright on the chair.

"Ow!"

"Thor, pay attention. You have accomplished nothing today."

Thor glared at her, "I don't like you."

Hlin's brows came together in a way that told him she didn't like what he'd said, "I'm sorry about that, but you must still learn to read."

Thor folded his arms, pouting at her defiantly, "Why?"

"Have you ever heard of a prince who didn't know how to read?"

"Yes."

Hlin was surprised. It almost would have made Thor laugh if he didn't so want to go outside, "Who?"

Thor pushed his chest out and pointed proudly at it, "Me."

Hlin gave an exasperated sigh, "Besides yourself, Thor."

"What about Loki?"

"He's too little."

"Buri couldn't read."

"Yes he could, Thor."

That was a novel thought. "But who taught him? The cow?" Thor laughed, pleased with the notion, "I want to be taught by a cow!"

"He already knew how, before Audhumbla found him."

Thor ignored her, staring at the opposite wall, a very interesting picture playing out in his mind, "Hlin," he said slowly. She cocked her head to one side, listening, "You are a cow."

Hlin scowled and Thor laughed at her.

"That is enough, Thor. You have to learn _some_thing today. What letter is this?"

Thor closed his eyes.

"Thor,"

Her tone carried the weight of a threat, so he opened one eye, but he decided that she didn't look serious, so he closed it again and folded his arms.

Hlin sighed heavily, then, "I will let you go if you tell me what letter this is,"

Thor's eyes opened and he sat up straighter, "Really?" his eyes flicked to the paper in her hand, "That's the mast one."

"What is it _really_ called?"

"You said I could go!"

"Answer the question first."

It was Thor's turn to sigh. He rolled his eyes heavenward and slid down the chair, pulling himself sharply upright when he saw Hlin making to grab at him again, "Bjarkan?"

"Good. What sound does it make?"

"I have to go!"

"First tell me what sound it makes."

Thor moaned, "You told me I could go."

"Once you finish."

"Fine. B – like boat. Can I go _yet_?"

"Yes Thor. I have no idea how your mother accomplishes anything with you so obstinate."

Thor hardly heard; he was out the door and down the hall, laughing with his newly acquired freedom.

~.~

"Why don't you go see if any of the other children want to play?"

Loki scowled at his reflection in the window, "I don't want to."

"Whyever not?"

Loki shrugged. He didn't like playing with the other children. They watched and listened and wondered and it made him nervous. They all wanted him to _do_ something. But Loki didn't _do_ things. That was Thor's job. Loki just…well…followed Thor. Thor was big and strong, and he could do anything. Nobody ever told him that he was too young or too small or too sick. People expected Loki to be like that, and he wasn't. Not yet. He'd be like Thor when he was bigger. But for now, staying with his mother was better…even if he was _bored_. He turned around on the trunk to face her, "Why can't I go to lessons? I could sit still and do just what Hlin told me to,"

"Hlin has her hands full with your brother, Loki." Frigga came and sat down beside him, then put him on her lap and laid a warm hand on his forehead. He _hoped_ he wasn't getting sick _again_. But his mother put her hand away and didn't move, or call for one of her ladies, so he thought he was probably fine. "Why does Thor have to go?" he asked, "He doesn't even like it. Why can't he stay home?"

"Why don't you go and play?"

"I don't want to."

"Why not?"

Her eyes were soft and kind and she wanted to know, even though it was a silly question, "'s no fun by myself,"

"But there are other children to play with, Loki," she said again, "other children your own age, who don't have lessons yet. You could play with them,"

"I don't want to." Loki turned back to the window. He felt like crying, but he didn't know why and he didn't want to. Frigga's fingers stroked his hair and he leaned back against her. He liked it when she held him. It felt safe.

There was a crash and he found that he had spun around on her lap and was leaning over her shoulder, watching as Thor galloped into the room.

"Hlin let me out, Mama! She said I was bein' ob-stin-ate or something, but now I get to play!" He grinned up at Loki, "Can I go outside?"

"Me too?" Loki went back down to see Frigga's face, cupping her cheeks in his hands like she did to him when she especially wanted him to pay attention, hoping, _hoping_ that she would say yes.

"It's raining," she said.

"'s not so bad," Thor said, peering skeptically out the window, "Please, Mother?"

Loki couldn't hold still anymore and climbed down onto the floor, dancing from foot to foot, hands clasped pleadingly, "Please?"

Frigga laughed, "Alright, alright, fine." Thor smiled at him triumphantly, and Loki could tell that his mother said something else, something maybe about not getting dirty, but he was so happy that he couldn't have said what it was for sure, and he didn't really care. He and Thor were running out of the dark hall and into the wet outside. The ground was cool and wet and hard and the raindrops tickled as they slid down his face – icy cold where they pierced his clothes.

"Loki, come and look at this!"

Loki turned and saw Thor, crouched over something on the ground. He was cold, but it didn't matter. Thor was here, and Thor wanted to play.

Loki ran over to his brother.

~.~.~.~

"Welcome home, my old friend."

They had come through the portal and spoken briefly with Hiemdal. Now, finally, _finally_, Odin was on the last leg of the journey home. All he had left to do was walk to the palace.

"Asgard," Kvasir breathed, turning appreciatively to get a look at the entire line of the city, "It's grander than I remembered it,"

"We have done much to make it so," Odin said proudly. He turned to his friend as they walked, "Why did you leave it? You seemed quick enough to return when given an excuse,"

Kvasir smiled in a tired sort of way, "My Father was Vanir, so, after his death, it seemed good to me to follow my father's name," he laughed, softly, "It did not take them long to communicate how little trust they had for a 'half-blood'. I only had yet to make up my mind to return here. Your predicament proved the perfect opportunity."

~.~

Loki loved it when mother would read stories to him. Especially when they could read outside. Thor had wandered off, bored with the story, but Loki stayed, playing idly with his hand in the water from the fountain. He didn't understand why Thor always had to be rushing around. It was perfectly pleasant right here.

Suddenly, the trail of words stopped. "Odin!" The book fell to the ground, and Frigga was moving away. Loki looked up, startled. Two men had come into the garden; his mother was hugging one of them. "Your home!" she said, "It's been so long!" she stepped away still holding onto one of his hands, and Loki could see that it was his father. It had been a long time since his father had come home. It made him nervous.

"I have returned," Odin smiled at her, "And I brought an old friend."

"Greetings, Lady Frigga," the stranger said. Loki wondered distractedly where Thor was. He would feel safer if Thor was here, but he was afraid to call for him.

"It has been a long time, Kvasir," then his mother did something that frightened him very badly. She turned and said, "Loki, come and greet your father,"

Loki was going to do no such thing. The man there - that Frigga called his father – was huge and grand and Loki felt suddenly very small. He wanted to run away, but he couldn't move.

"Father! When did you come?"

Thor was there, then. Loki thought that maybe his mother had called him to come as well, but he wasn't sure. Thor went boldly up to their father and hugged him. Loki took his chance and sprinted across the ground to stand half behind his mother, holding to her skirts. He wondered for a minute why Thor wasn't afraid, but then he remembered that Thor wasn't afraid of anything, and his mind relaxed.

"Who's that?" Thor's attention had turned to the stranger, he was pointing at him, a frown on his face. Loki's head swiveled to see the man.

"That is my old friend, Kvasir," Odin was laughing a little. Loki didn't like that he had only one eye, "He's going to be staying with us."

Staying with them? Loki turned his attention again to the other man. He was tall and pleasant-looking - and best of all, he _wasn't_ looking at him. The man – Kvasir – was looking at Thor. He had crouched down to be at more of eye-level to him, "Your father has told me many tales of your great valor." He had a nice voice, Loki thought.

Thor did not immediately answer, but looked at the man for a long moment. Then he nodded and his face broke into his usual grin. Loki remembered that he could breathe. "He's well enough, Father," Thor said, "You can keep him."

"Thor!" Loki's eyes flickered up to her, startled. Frigga sounded shocked.

But the stranger laughed, "Well, isn't he the mighty one?" he stood up, sketching a slight bow, "I am flattered to have met with your approval, Prince."

Father laughed, but Loki was still watching the stranger. Kvasir. He decided that maybe he might like him. He moved slowly and he had a nice face. Yes. Thor was right. The stranger could stay. Maybe.

~.~

"Odin!" the woman by the fountain bolted to her feet, dropping the book and running to him, abandoning the child in her haste to meet her husband. It had taken him a moment to recognize her, but only a moment. It had not been so long as that since he and Frigga had last met. "You're home!" she cried in an ecstasy of joy, "It's been so long!"

Feeling intrusive, watching such a reunion, Kvasir turned his attention to the child. He was small and dark, too young yet to have begun his training, with big green eyes that watched his parents with something like fear. His thumb had found its way into his mouth, and Kvasir doubted very much that he knew it had. To the mind of a small boy, it had been ages since his father had been home, Kvasir considered. No wonder the child was frightened.

"I have returned," he heard Odin say, "And I brought an old friend."

He turned to her, removing his attention from the boy, bowing to her as Queen, smiling as friend, "Greetings, Lady Frigga,"

"It has been a long time, Kvasir," Frigga turned a little then, remembering her son, "Loki, come and greet your father," she called, "Thor!" then, vaguely apologetic, "I can never keep track of that one, we come out and he is lost to me." With a sigh that was half weary and half fond exasperation, she turned back to him, grey eyes smiling, "And what joy brings you to us now?"

"I come as a hostage." Kvasir said, laughing at the sharp way her slender brows rose, "It was a term of the agreement."

She turned to her husband for explanation.

"Njord - a Council Man - and Kvasir returned with us. Hoenir and Mimir stayed behind."

There was a clash and a clatter and a tall young boy of about training age flew into the garden before them. He glanced back and forth, looking for his mother, then his face broke into a huge grin and he rushed toward them, diving forward, "Father! When did you come?"

The littler boy – Loki - took his chance and darted across the space to his mother, hiding in her skirts. Kvasir smiled. He remembered well what it was to be a small boy. The child peered around the lavender fabric, eyes bright and curious, made bolder by proximity to his mother. Kvasir noticed though that his thumb was still stuck inside his mouth.

"Who's that?" The older boy's attention had diverted, and he was now pointing to him, a curious, mildly suspicious look on his handsome young face.

"That is my old friend, Kvasir. He's going to be staying with us."

The father's voucher wasn't enough for the boy. Kvasir crouched down be on level with – maybe even looking up a little into – those serious, electric blue eyes. "Your father has told me many tales of your great valor."

The boy did not move for a moment, but searched his eyes, and Kvasir held his gaze. The boy smiled.

"He's well enough, Father," he nodded regally, "You can keep him."

"Thor!" Frigga sounded shocked, and Kvasir laughed, "Well, isn't he the mighty one?" he straightened, heart unexpectedly light at the boy's acceptance, and bowed slightly at the waist, "I am flattered to have met with your approval, Prince."

"Let us go into the hall," Odin said, smiling fondly at his golden-haired son, gesturing toward the path down which they had come, "there is much to be discussed."

Frigga moved too fast for the younger boy, he lost his hold on her skirts and scrambled after her. He caught at her, fingers closing around the cloth and turned, eyes wide and green - a little scared - to catch a look at him. Kvasir smiled, not quite looking directly at him, giving the child the space he seemed to crave.

Out of the corner of his eye, Kvasir saw the boy smile back.


	4. Chapter 4 - Ineptitude

_Thank you guys so much for the response! Sorry I've been unreliable about the updating, but no promises it'll get better…somehow the internets always out. …I seem to remember somebody saying it was supposed to make our lives EASIER…_

Loki had finally caught his breath. He and Thor had been chosen the last two to show themselves in the Tournament. At least Thor had gone last. It was better that they see success as the final showing of Odin's house.

Loki looked down at his arm. The place where the creature had had him was healed – it never took long when Mother had Eir use the Healing Stones – there was barely even a mark that he had been held. He put the arm back behind him, bitter disappointment replacing the fear that had so overwhelmed him on the Tournament grounds. Shame burned him – making his face go hot – that he should be the one to so disgrace his father's name in front of everyone, even the councilors from Vanaheim! He didn't understand why they hadn't let him use his magic. Wouldn't the Vanir have enjoyed it? And he understood it so much more than he did the stupid sword he had been given. His eyes stung and he bit down hard on his tongue. It would not do at all for him to first fail in the Tournament, and then cry about it like a babe, especially with all of the court and the visitors here to see. He wished, almost, that his mother had stayed with him. But, of course, she couldn't do that. She was the queen and it was proper that she stay beside his father. Bad enough that she had been forced to leave to care for his injuries already. She had asked if he would come and sit with her, as he had all those other years, but that was what he had done when he was too young to join. He was far too old now. But he didn't want to go back with the others. Not after what had happened. So he stood off by the door, where there were no other people and where few could see him unless they were to come out of the door behind him, or to come in.

Of course Thor had done well. Thor was golden and bright and strong and brave and everything that Loki just wasn't. Thor would never fail a Tournament all because he got scared. Thor never got scared. Loki wished – but the wishing hurt and he wasn't going to cry so he bit his tongue and made himself stop.

Then the Tournament was truly good and over. Thor had slain his beast and the final ceremonies had been completed. Loki should have shown himself for that, but he didn't trust himself to, he would blame his hand, that it had still hurt and he had gone to ask…someone, about it. Who he had gone to ask he didn't know, everyone he could think of was here, but maybe he would say that he had forgotten, that he had thought he saw Eir in the hall.

"Loki!" He jumped, startled by the sudden salutation. Thor was coming through the doorway, laughing with the others who had fought, calling to him, beckoning him to join with them – to go and play before the start of the great feast that was to follow.

But he wasn't going to.

Sudden anger burned through him. Why did Thor always have to do better? He studied more than Thor did - practiced at least just as hard. The words rolled off his tongue before he rightly knew what it was saying, "I hate you Thor!" his foot came down hard against the ground, "I hate you, I hate you," his hands had made tight fists at his sides. "I _hate _you!" The smile had vanished from Thor's face, "I wish I had _anyone_ else for a brother! I wish –" the group who followed Thor had gone shocked and quiet, Loki didn't care, "I wish I had a _Frost Giant_ for a brother instead of you!" He was shaking and his breath came too fast. No more words came and without them he felt naked and small, afraid.

"Loki," Thor's voice was hurt.

But Loki didn't care. All of them were looking at him and he _didn't _want them to. He turned and ran away before he could disgrace himself completely.

He fled down the long halls and straight to his room where he shut the door firmly behind him. He crawled into the dark corner between his bed and the wall, drawing his knees up to his chest and hiding his face in his arms. His breathing evened out, the shaking stopped, and the tears slowly went back to wherever it was they came from, but Loki didn't move. He was angry and he didn't want to go back.

~.~

Frigga smiled politely at the heavily perfumed Vanir councilwoman who had turned in her seat to speak to her. She wasn't especially fond of most of the Vanir – they were too flowery and sickly sweet – and right now she had other things on her mind. Loki had been bleeding badly when they had taken him from the field. The healing had gone just fine – there were no complications – the wound wouldn't even leave a scar – but still, Frigga worried after him. He never took failure well. She had wanted him to sit with her, but he had refused, and she hadn't seen him since, even though he should have been there for the closing. She wanted to find him, but she was the Queen, and it would not be proper for her to disappear without notice. Especially not in the middle of an – albeit intolerably dull – conversation with a foreign courtier.

"Queen Frigga!"

Her head shot up and she saw Sif, pushing her way through the legs of the nobles who had by this time stood up. Frigga was good friends with Sif's mother, and the girl was almost like a daughter to her. She raised a hand to the woman – she _knew_ she had been introduced and she _should_ have remembered the name, "Could you excuse me for a minute?"

"Of course," the woman smiled a dazzlingly fake smile.

Frigga let it go with something dangerously close to relief and turned back to the girl, who had come right up and now grasped her hand, "Come quickly!" her face was troubled. Sif was a resourceful and independent girl. If she was coming to her – or any adult for that matter – speaking that way with that kind of look on her face, Frigga was inclined to believe that whatever it was, the problem was serious.

Odin was busy; he caught her look and waved a hand, allowing her to go.

"Sif, what is it?"

Sif didn't answer, but lead her to one of the side doors, where there was a group of many of the younger boys who had been in the Tournament. They fell silent when she came, moving to reveal Thor, who was standing uncertainly, his lip caught between his teeth, looking very much like he wanted to cry. Thor often lost his temper, but it was a rare thing for him to weep, especially now that he was older.

"Thor?"

His face turned up to her, blue eyes brimming with tears, "Mother,"

Frigga looked to Sif, "Sif, would you lead everyone down to the feast?"

Sif gave a sharp nod, and Frigga swooped forward, taking Thor gently by his shoulder and leading him away from the others and toward his room.

She wasn't quite fast enough.

"What happened?" a concerned, and all-together _too_ bejeweled Vanir woman cooed, peering down toward her son, trying to get a look at his face.

Frigga shielded him with her body, "The prince has injured his hand. All will be well."

They made it to his room without further complication and Frigga closed the door behind them, relieved to be away from prying eyes.

"Mother," his voice was unsteady, "Mother, Loki –" it broke completely.

"Shh," Frigga gathered him to her and his golden head went down against her shoulder, "He hates me, Mother," he said weakly, rubbing at the tears, "Loki said he hates me,"

Frigga knew both of her sons, and her heart sank. Loki had taken his loss less well than she had hoped, and worse, he had taken out his disappointment on his brother. She sighed, leading Thor to the seat by his window, "Tell me what happened."

~.~

"I am going to go and see to your brother, alright?"

Thor nodded, playing with the fringes of the blanket which was thrown across the seat in the window on which he sat, not raising his eyes to meet hers.

Frigga sighed, letting her hand rest briefly on his head, then slip through his long hair and left, closing the door lightly behind her and, crossed the hall to Loki's room.

The door was shut. Frigga tapped on it, but there was no answer. There never was. She pushed the door open and stepped in, "Loki?" there was a shift in the shadows on the far wall by his bed. She closed her eyes, wishing that her boys could stay children forever, and closed the door behind her. She gathered up her skirts and went up on top of the bed, clambering across it to where she could see her boy. He was sitting on the ground in the darkest corner, his face hidden in his arms.

"Loki?"

The boy sighed, lifting his head and resting his chin on his knees. He didn't look at her.

"Loki, what happened?"

The boy bit his lip and looked away without actually moving his head. It made her think that he knew what he had said was a lie, and that he was sorry for it, but she didn't know how to make him admit it. She sighed, sitting down on the bed, "I was just talking to Thor, and he told me that you hated him."

Loki blinked and looked down even further toward the ground, but made no move to speak.

She asked him seriously, "Do you hate your brother?"

Loki's head shot up, "No!"

His eyes skated away. He hadn't meant to answer her. She pretended not to notice, "Then why did you say that to him?"

"I don't know," Loki gave up miserably. He laid his head back down on his arms and his voice came up to her muffled, "I was angry,"

"You can't just say things like that, Loki," Frigga said, "Your brother is very upset."

Loki gave a derisive sound, raising his head, "Sure he is," he rubbed at his nose with the back of his hand, "I'm sure the feast is very quiet."

"It is." Frigga smoothed out the blanket by her hand, watching her son, gauging how best to reach him.

Loki gave the same derisive sound, settling his chin on his knees once again.

"Your brother didn't come."

Loki's head came up and he looked at her disbelievingly.

Frigga nodded, turning back to watch her hand, "He's been in his room ever since you left." Loki turned away blinking at the far wall, "You should speak to him, Loki. He's very upset."

He hugged his knees tighter to him, "I don't want to."

"I know," Frigga said gently, but firmly, "But you have done wrong, and you owe your brother an explanation," she pushed herself up and moved off of the bed, "and an apology. Are you coming?"

It was a moment, but then he stood, eyes trained steadily on the ground, and clambered across the bed to stand before her.

"There's my boy," she smiled fondly at him, laying a hand on the top of his head, "Go and speak to your brother."

Loki nodded mutely and allowed her to nudge him to the door.

~.~

Mother had asked him if she wanted her to come with him. Loki looked down the hall where she had disappeared. He almost wished he had asked her to stay. But not really. He took a deep breath, trying to force down the fluttering cold feeling in his chest - it was foolish, Thor was only his brother - and knocked.

There wasn't any answer.

Taking another deep breath, he pushed the door open.

The first thing that Loki noticed was that it was dark, which was strange for Thor. There was a sick feeling in the back of his throat as he went to turn away - he was beginning to wonder whether Thor had maybe gotten over it and was already down at the feast as if nothing had happened, but then a sound stopped him, a soft snuffling.

He turned back.

Loki scanned the room again, and this time he saw him – Thor - curled up by the window, starring dejectedly at the floor. He had his legs drawn up, one arm wrapped protectively around his waist, the other up as his hand rubbed at his face…

He'd been crying.

Loki had never seen his older brother like this, and it frightened him.

He had told Thor that he hated him, and Thor had gone up to his room and cried.

Loki's throat closed, a soft sound, almost like a whimper, escaping his lips before he could snap them shut.

Thor gave a start and his eyes flickered to him, wide and startled.

Loki opened his mouth, "Thor I –" his breath was coming fast and shallow. He didn't want to be here. He wanted to run back to his room where he was safe. He forced the words out, all in a tumble before he didn't have a chance, "I'm sorry,"

Thor had stood up and Loki meant to run, but he didn't move quite fast enough and was caught as his brother wrapped him in a hug.

"I'm sorry," words spilled frantically out of his mouth, "Let me go, Thor, please, I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry. I – I didn't mean – didn't mean any of it. Pl-please let – let me go,"

"Loki," Thor's voice was hoarse, but gentle, which almost made it worse.

Loki's breath hitched violently in his chest and he wanted to stop babbling, but he couldn't, "I'm sorry, Thor, I'm sorry,"

"Shh, Loki, it's alright,"

Thor let go of him. His throat ached and he turned back to face his brother. Thor was very close, standing, tall again. "I di-didn't – I didn't mean it, Thor,"

Thor gave him a lopsided – unsteady – smile, laying a hand on Loki's shoulder, his eyes warm and forgiving, "I love you, Brother. Never forget that."

Loki's mouth snapped shut. His eyes stung and he had to bite his lip hard. A sob clawed its way out of his throat.

Thor sounded shocked, "Loki, don't cry,"

But that only made it worse. Thor pulled him roughly into a hug as he fought to regain control. Thor's voice was almost too quiet for Loki to hear it as he said against his hair, "I'm sorry too, Brother. I don't really know what I did to make you angry, but if you tell me, I swear, I'll never do it again."

This was the brother he knew, fierce and protective and rash and stupid.

It made him feel worse.

After a few minutes, the heaving stopped and he stood up, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, fighting to catch his breath.

Thor kept one hand on his shoulder, by his neck, forcing him again to meet his gaze, "I'm sorry, Loki."

Loki sniffed, smearing away the tears with the back of his hand, "Me too," He looked at his brother, tall, shining, powerful, and on impulse he darted forward, almost knocking him over backwards as he hugged him. He let go nearly just as quickly, and Thor smiled, "I'm going down to the feast. Will you come?"

There was a vague sinking feeling in Loki's chest. He'd behaved himself very poorly, and wasn't at all sure he wanted to see anyone just yet, not their friends _or _the courtiers, and especially not the visitors. But Thor wanted him to come. He nodded.

Thor grinned, "Race you," and took off.

"No fair!" But Loki was laughing as he flew out of the room after his brother.

_Ooo, by the way, if you want to read any other stories I've written about Thor and Loki's childhood, I've tried to keep these in the same verse._


	5. Chapter 5 - Insecurity

**Sorry, I keep forgetting to post their ages. For the last one, I would say they were about 11, and 8. Here I would guess about 14 and 11, or the Asgardian equivalent ;) My previously published story **_**Loki Hides**_** would have happened between the two. Probably about two years before this one.**

**And I suppose I should say this now before I get into legal trouble, but I own nothing. If you recognize the name, it was coined by Marvel comics, or by whoever originally wrote the myths. I am only responsible for their use now.**

**The rest of the first part of this fic is going to be done in three stories, all centering on the mythology, it should take me about 6 weeks total to get it all published. My part of this story ends **_**way**_** before what happens in **_**Thor**_**. **

**The second – and final – part will be accomplished in four chapters, and is set to have taken place between **_**Thor**_** and **_**The Avengers**_**. **

**That's the plan, anyway.**

**Sorry about the really long author's note,**

**And thank you for all the follows and favorites,**

**And **_**especially**_** thank you to those special few of you who have chosen to review, you make my day ;)**

Loki sat sidelong on the low bench. A green spark flicked between the fingers of his right hand. He stared at the little flame - watched it dance and sparkle. He watched it, but it had been a good while since he had seen it. His face was void of expression, gaze fixated on his hand.

It was a simple exercise, one he'd managed in earliest youth. In fact, it was the first thing that Freya had taught to him. Simple and easy, it was relatively harmless and simultaneously showy. He had insisted on the color. Freya had been a little disgruntled.

"_No, Loki, just make fire."_

"_Why can't I have it be green?"_

"_It's not done like that."_

"_But I like it this way."_

That was how it was when one was a prince. The palace people were likely to allow you whatever whims you took it into your head to desire.

Loki always made the fire green. He had tried many different colors - experimented with every shade in the Bifrost - but none quite suited him the way the emerald flames did. The color felt soft – right. And if he could make something feel right, he would. So, whenever Loki made fire, it was green. Freya would purse her lips, but she would allow him his way. And Loki would be happy with his small victory.

He knew what the palace people whispered about him. He'd heard what the other children said when neither he nor Thor was with them. He was so quiet and slight on his feet that it made his tricks very easy. It also made it all too simple for the hapless boy to overhear words that were not meant for his ears.

And this - this was not the first time that Loki had heard them. Far from it. But for some reason - this time – it had struck with new force. In the beginning he had been hurt and had slunk away, tricks forgotten. He thought to go to his father. But if he went to his father, he'd have to explain how he had heard what it was that they said. And even _if_ his father punished them, they would wonder how the king had known. A cold thought touched him… What if he told his father. and his father did nothing? What then? What if his father –

_What if Father agreed with them?_

The question made him stop. He looked for the assurance within him that such an idea was preposterous.

He found nothing.

He heard someone – two someones - coming down the hall just then - laughing and chattering in the way the women-folk had. Panicking, Loki ducked into the thick shadows beneath the stairwell. They passed him by without so much as a glance and he breathed a sigh of relief. Somehow it would have been unbearable, if they had been to find him with the unkind realization fresh upon him.

He stayed there for a time, in the dark, hurt and confused and unsure of what to do. He thought to go to his mother, she would hold him in her arms and assure him that all they said were lies. He longed for the comfort she could give - that he had gone so easily for as a little child - longed for the soft words that would cool the sting like balm on a burn. She would be so sorry - _so_ sorry… And he couldn't bear to see the hurt in her eyes that was there all for him… He was haunted by the thought that - if she told him what they said was lies - she might be lying herself, and she might know the lie.

_And he didn't want her to lie to him._

So he had swallowed down the hurt, swallowed the words inside him until they were caught somewhere under his skin where nobody could see how they hurt him - nobody could tell what it was that he had heard.

It crossed his mind that he could tell Thor. Thor would listen – probably - but the oaf would either laugh - not realizing how the laughter cut - or he would go and deliver his particular mode of justice. The boys wouldn't be able to walk for a week. For a moment, Loki almost smiled at the image that flitted through his mind. But somehow, that would have been even worse than anything else. He didn't want Thor to know - didn't want Thor involved at all.

Loki could look after himself.

So he had gone to his room, mind plagued with questions. _What_ if they were right? He hadn't been able to get the thought out of his head - hadn't been able to displace it with anything that seemed remotely like truth. And he was afraid - _so_ afraid to ask… So he sat alone in his room and watched the green fire kiss the tips of his fingers as he deftly shifted its position on his hand – all without seeing.

"What are you doing?"

Loki shot to the surface, fire winking out, spinning around and on his feet all in an instant.

"Easy," Thor was laughing, hand raised as though Loki was a skittish horse, "Easy, I didn't mean to alarm you."

Loki swallowed thickly, "You didn't." The lie was automatic and so blatantly obvious that he looked away, a wave of shame washing over him.

"What are you doing?"

"I was…" Loki waved his hand vaguely, his mind elsewhere, trying desperately to seem nonchalant. He hated to be caught like this. Unprepared. Vulnerable. His heart throbbed unsteadily, giddy with the surprise, "practicing."

"You were talking to yourself," Thor prodded, coming closer, "are you alright?"

Loki hadn't realized that he had been speaking. Norns knew what it was that he'd said – what Thor had heard him say. He prayed that Thor wouldn't see the flush creeping up his neck, spreading heat throughout his body. He forced his tone calm and level - even lofty, bored, "One must speak to do some of the works I…" It struck him suddenly that Thor had come into his room and he realized how fiercely he wanted him out of it, "What are _you_ doing?"

Thor's eyebrows darted together, his head cocked to one side like an inquisitive dog, all pure, unfeigned innocence, "Are you angry with me?"

Loki darted a glance at him, how could he be so…so Thor. He turned away again, fighting, for some reason, to keep a sudden trembling out of his voice, "No. Why are you here?"

"I took this earlier, and I wanted to give it back to you before I forgot about it."

Curiosity won and Loki looked. It was a slender volume that he recognized from his shelves. Thor held it out expectantly, and Loki reached for it, voice clipped, "Thank you."

Thor didn't let go, pulling sharply back, forcing Loki to stumble forward, making the younger boy meet his eyes, "Why are you angry? Did I do something wrong?"

Thor was growing impatient. Good. So much the better. Maybe he would loose his temper and _leave_. Something tight had rushed up into Loki's throat and he couldn't look at his brother, "No." He tugged peevishly and Thor released the book. Not because Loki was stronger, but because the book had served his purpose. Loki almost fell, but recovered his balance, skin burning.

"Then why weren't you at dinner?"

"I was tired, Thor."

Thor was unconvinced, "If that's true, then why were you," he raised his hands and wiggled his fingers in a way that from anyone else would have come off as offensively mocking, "practicing? Shouldn't you be sleeping?" His tone went gentle, coaxing, "What is amiss, Brother? Is Freya vexed with you again?"

"NO, Thor." The words came out too hot and angry, but he couldn't help it. He felt exposed and clumsy and unsteady and he had had enough and couldn't Thor _see_ that he just wanted to be _left alone_? His hands were shaking, the fingers white where they clutched the book, "No. Nothing is wrong. I am tired and I just want to go to sleep. Is that too much for your clodpoll brain to understand?"

Thor's face darkened, on the fringes of confusion and anger, "Loki,"

"GO _AWAY!_"

"Fine." Thor's mouth shut like a trap. He turned and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Loki realized suddenly that he desperately wanted to follow him. To throw open the door and run after him and catch at his sleeve. To say he was sorry – so sorry. He wanted to tell Thor what had happened, tell him what he'd heard, beg him to say what was true - longed for _someone _who would _listen _to him, longed for _someone_ who would speak the truth – Thor had only meant to help. And if anyone would tell him the truth, it was Thor. But it was too late, Thor was angry now. He felt shaking and sick and he thought for a minute that he might fall. He wanted to sit down, but he wouldn't. He was already weak enough. He felt like his body was on fire - burning with shame and embarrassment and hurt and confusion and longing - his skin, his eyes, his throat - burning him all away to nothing. And maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing. Loki hated himself sometimes. Maybe Asgard would be a more glorious place if he were not part of it. He couldn't even _talk_ to his own brother without…this. He closed his eyes, making himself stand straight. Forcing a ragged breath, he looked down and saw the book pressed between his fingers. He sighed and, dully, returned it to its place, then turned out the light and crawled into his bed. It was soft and dark and he was finally _alone_.

His eyes stung and he reached up. He felt the tears leaking haphazardly down his cheeks and he rubbed with a sudden savage mercilessness at them to force them away. But they wouldn't stop and there was nothing he could do to hold them back. They were all over his hands and his arms and his face, slippery and wet and cold on his skin. He hated them. Hated them, hated them, _hated them_. Hated how helpless and pathetic and weak they made him feel. Hated that he couldn't make them stop. Hated how helplessly – brokenly - his body heaved against the mattress beneath him. Hated that it was his own body, and he couldn't make it stop choking, couldn't make the breaths come like they were supposed to. He hated all of it and he just wanted it to stop.

In the end, it did.

In the end, the weeping gave out, and Loki slept.


	6. Chapter 6 - Indiscretion

**Thor – 14 * Loki – 11**

**or thereabouts ;)**

Something was different about Sif. Thor didn't know what it was, and it made him incredibly curious. She was…well…pretty. Like, really, really pretty. The way she moved was…

"Thor! Get down!"

Thor turned in time to see the ball coming toward him, but not quite fast enough to follow his younger brother's advice. Not, at least, in the way that Loki had intended.

"What is the matter with you?" Loki prodded, green eyes suspicious, "Couldn't you see that coming? I mean, you were looking right at it," he held out his hand, but Thor ignored it, strangely flushed – all of a sudden – climbing to his feet.

"I was distracted," Thor shrugged, specifically not looking across the field to where Sif was positioned, laughing at something Volstag had said – even though she was really cute, and she had the best laugh, almost as pretty as mother's…

"Yeah, I'll say,"

Loki was watching him still, and Thor didn't like the way he looked at him, "I'm fine. What are we waiting for? Get back to your place, Brother."

~.~

"Guess where Thor is?"

Loki glared at him, green eyes flashing, "I don't know."

Fandril laughed at the younger boy, snapping his fingers and strutting back and forth across the courtyard - where Loki had been busily sulking – full to bursting of the knowledge he had recently gained, "No need to get testy."

"Where is he?"

"Hm," Fandril thought this was funny. It was rare, to know things about the brothers that they did not, "Guess."

Loki sighed, "Has he done something stupid again?"

Fandril laughed sharply, "Close, Silvertongue," he chuckled again, "very close."

"What has he done?" Loki straightened, eyes alight with some mix of curiosity, amusement, and – possibly - worry. Mostly curiosity, Fandril thought.

"You _do_ remember that time – Oh I don't know -" Fandril waved a hand, "a few days ago – when we were out and Sif said that she liked those purple flowers we saw out by Barre Field?"

"Yes," Loki nodded impatiently, "what about it?"

This whole situation was just _too_ funny, "Come and see."

Loki followed him up to the top of the wall, where they could look out and see much of the castle grounds. There were little bunches of the purple flowers set every couple of yards across almost the entirety of the area.

Loki apparently did not see the joke. His face was dark as he asked, "Thor?"

Fandril nodded, "I caught him in the act,"

Loki moved back to look over the area once more, "Well he hasn't thought to protect them from the sun _or_ the lack of water,"

"One rarely thinks overmuch of such trivial things," Fandril bowed grandly, "in the throes of young love."

Loki turned back to him sharply, "My brother?"

Fandril chuckled, "By my _expert_ opinion."

Loki snorted, "Your expert opinion is wrong, then," he looked away, disgusted, "Thor's a simpleton, but he wouldn't do anything so silly as all that."

It was strange that Loki wasn't finding any humor in this. If anyone was going to think this was funny, Fandril had imagined that it would be him. "Silly as what? Picking flowers?"

"No," Loki waved his hands like he didn't know how to say what he was thinking, "Falling in love,"

"Come now," Fandril laughed, "what's so silly about it?"

Loki shot him a glare and started down the way by which they had just come.

"Ah, that's it, you're jealous."

"No. I'm _not_." Loki snapped. He stopped, but he didn't turn.

Fandril swung himself down to fall in step companionably beside him. "Can't hide anything from me, Silvertongue," he went to lay an arm across the younger boy's shoulders, but instead of hitting flesh, Fandril's arm went straight down and he stumbled against the far wall, "Hey!" The image shimmered and winked out.

"Ha!"

Fandril whirled around and saw Loki standing behind him, wearing a grin so large it looked too big for his face. "You little rascal," Fandril dusted himself off, "Fine, you win this round."

Loki twisted languidly around to face the other direction, his smile looking a little too sharp – but maybe it was just the angle he was turned to - "I win all rounds," he gave a laugh, then, looking over his shoulder called, "Well, are you coming with me, or not? We've _got_ to find him before the oaf gets himself killed."

~.~

Sif stretched, arching her back and shoving off her blankets. Something felt strange about her hair…her mother had told her a thousand times to brush it before sleep, but it wasn't really _necessary_, and she had been so tired last night that she hadn't even bothered to release it from the tie she used to keep it back. It seemed that she'd have to pay for that now. As she leaned forward a soft feathering of hair brushed the tip of her nose. It tickled and she smiled – but how did it come to be doing that? Her hair was far too long to be –

Sif opened her eyes and flashed her hands back behind her head. Her hair had been cut off. Someone had come into the room while she was sleeping and _cut off her hair_. Sif was beyond angry. She was furious. And there was only one person in the entirety of Asgard who would think to do such a thing. She threw off her blankets and rolled out of bed.

_I'm going to _kill_ the little guttersnipe, _she thought, tugging the rough tunic over her head, frown deepening when she went to pull her hair free of the neck and found there was none to pull. _Royalty or no. I'm going to kill him. And then I'm going to shave him bald. _She almost laughed at the absurdity of the suggestion, tightening the lacing in the neck of her tunic. _And afterwards, I'm going to kill him again._

Sif stalked down the hall, when who should have the audacity to cross her path, but the last person she was interested in meeting this morning.

"Sif, what have you done to your hair?" Loki had stopped, a look of just-too exaggerated surprise spread across his face.

"You should know." Sif growled, but before the boy had a chance to answer back, she swung – hard – and hit him in the face.

The force threw him backward onto the floor, and as he struggled up, he kept one hand pressed against his nose, but she could see the blood between his fingers.

She didn't give him the chance to speak, "I don't know what is wrong with you, but your blood is no protection from me, _Prince_, and you'd best keep your distance unless you'd like to see more of it." She turned on her heel and left him there, to nurse his injury and his pride.

She was still fuming when she ran into Thor some time later.

"Sif, what happened to your hair?"

The shock on his face was so absolute – so unlike his brother. Her treacherous eyes stung, "Loki," she cleared her throat to steady her voice, "Loki cut it off."

"My brother?" he didn't seem to be able to comprehend the idea.

"Do we know any other 'Loki's, Thor?"

Thor gave a breath of a laugh at the question, but when he looked back to her, his face changed, softened. He brushed his hand lightly through the short dusting of hair that tickled by her chin, "It suits you," he murmured.

Sif felt the tears come hotly close to falling and batted them away with the back of her hand, dropping her eyes to the floor.

His face had darkened by the time she raised her head again, "When did he do this?"

"Last night," Sif said, "last night when I was sleeping."

Thor gave a breath that came out almost like a curse. He raised his eyes to her, and it struck her how very bright blue they were. It was funny, that she hadn't noticed it before. He opened his mouth like he meant to speak, but closed it again. "I must speak with my brother."

And then he left.

Sif watched him as he went, the lines of his body tense and angry.

Later, when she happened to pass a wall of well-polished stone, she stopped – as she hadn't ever thought to before – to view herself in its smooth surface. Her hair was easier to handle, that was sure enough.

_It suits you._

She could feel herself flush and she turned away.

_Foolishness._

~.~

Fuming, Thor strode down the hall. He knew where to find his brother. Loki would be in his room, or in one of the libraries. Norns only knew what was wrong with him, Thor was sure that _he_ had no idea. But to willfully injure someone when they were asleep? A girl? _Sif_, a voice in his head reminded him, but he stoutly ignored it, choosing instead to focus on the problem at hand.

"Loki!"

There was a faint sound on the higher level, and Thor glanced up in time to see Loki turn lazily around, expression completely apathetic. "Do you still find her so beguiling?"

"Loki!" Thor shouted, "Get down here!"

Loki raised one eyebrow, "Why? Didn't they tell you?" Marking his page with one finger he closed his book, smirking a little, "She already made me bleed for it."

_She didn't tell me that._ Shaking his head Thor exclaimed, "I'm glad she did!"

Loki gave a huff of air midway between a snort and a laugh, "Good," he went back to his book, "Then go off with her and leave me be."

Thor wanted to hit him with something - _make_ him pay attention, "You _cut off_ her hair!"

"So?"

"'_So?_'?" Thor couldn't believe what his brother was saying, "You little coward! What had she done to you?" he stomped his foot in frustration, "Get DOWN here!"

Loki closed his book with a snap, "No. I won't."

"Then _I'm_ coming _up_!"

The younger boy spun sharply around to face him, taking a step back to avoid hitting the balcony he'd been leaning against, "I'm not afraid of you!"

Thor started up the stairs, "Maybe you should be!"

"Not likely, dullard" but he noticed that Loki took a step back.

"Loki," he threw his hands out, completely unable to understand, "you cut off her hair!"

"Yes. I did." Loki was snapping now, angry in his own turn. But not sorry for what he had done, and that only made Thor angrier.

"She was _asleep_, you vicious little snake!"

Loki's eyes flashed, "She's merely _lucky_ I didn't think to do _worse!_"

"No son of Odin would willfully attack a sleeping maid!"

Loki sneered, "Then why don't you go and comfort your lady love –"

"You're a disgrace to our house!"

That seemed to catch him off guard, he tripped a little, over the leg of a chair that was behind him, caught himself - "Then go and play with your _other_ friends," his voice rose to a shout, "and _leave me ALONE_!" He flung the heavy book that was still in his hands in a last defiance and fled.

"Loki! Get back here!"

But the boy was gone. And by the time Thor came to the doorway he'd vanished from, he was out of sight.

~.~

Loki flew down the main hallway and fell down the stairs where he landed with a hard thump. Wincing, he scrambled to his feet and kept on. He didn't know where he was going, and he didn't care. Words and thoughts and emotions pounded through him at a dizzying rate. _You're a disgrace to our house!_ But as long as he kept moving, he was alright. Maybe if he went fast enough, he might even be able to outrun them. _No son of Odin would…_ He burst outside and tall plants whipped past him – stinging his face

He was in the woods when he stopped, breath heaving in and out of his chest. His throat hurt like he wanted to cry, but he brushed it away and steadied himself against a tree. He didn't know why he'd done it – why he'd cut off her hair. For some reason, it had seemed like a good idea last night, but _of course_ Thor was angry. And Sif was a dangerous person to aggravate. His face still hurt, she had hit him very hard – _You deserved it_ – and it had been harder to pretend that her anger hadn't bothered him than he had thought it would. He was lucky – he supposed - that she hadn't done worse. What had he thought would happen? That Thor would get one look at her with her shorn hair, forget all this foolishness he had been playing at, and go back to the way he was before? _Idiot_.

Loki turned and leaned his back against the trunk of the tree and closed his eyes. Now Thor was angry…but he knew that if he gave Thor enough space it would blow over without much work from him. At least that was something. But he doubted Sif would ever forgive him. And he was sorry for that. _All I wanted was for Thor to stop – So you _cut off_ her hair? Simpleton._ And sooner or later he'd have to go back…and word would get to Mother…and Father. Thor had probably already told them. His heart sunk somewhere much lower and colder than the place it belonged and he bit his lip. Thor he could face again - even Sif - but he didn't want his parents to find out what he had done. Didn't want to see the disappointment on his mother's face, or the disapproving scowl on his father's.

"Ow!" he was snapped back to reality by a little burst of pain and the thin taste of blood, but it was nothing, he had merely managed to chew through his lip. Birds who had been content to ignore him up until this time – hearing his shout - gave up on his going away and decided that he could just _have_ the tree – abandoning it all at once with a mass flutter of wings and annoyed calls to one another. Loki watched them, but their flight was bringing to his mind an entirely new problem that he – _again_ – had not thought to prevent.

A cold, panicked feeling settling over his chest, Loki slowly pivoted. He had never seen this part of the forest before. There was no opening, no path, not even a trail of crushed vegetation to show by which way he had come.

He tried to calm himself, but the feeling only intensified, coming more thickly around him and squeezing his chest tight like a constrictor snake. His heart throbbed unsteadily as he began to walk. Darkness came early to the forest, and it had been past mid-day when he had crashed recklessly into it. _You idiot! – You harebrained dunce! How didn't you know -_ Already he could see the shadows of the trees lengthening. And – more dreadfully – _couldn't_ see what lay in the darker places. His mind presented all kinds of fearsome devils lurking in those pitch-deep haunts, and it wasn't long before his unsteady walk became a full-out run.

His knee ached where he had hurt it when he fell down the stairs, but his mind hardly registered the pain in its frantic pin-wheeling from shade to shade and tree to tree and how did he get into this mess and _was_ there even a way out? He was crying out of fear and shame and confusion – and - for once - he didn't care. How long he had been searching for a way out he didn't know but it was too long and he just wanted it to be over. He wanted to stop, but the fear wouldn't let him. There was a crashing sound somewhere to his right, and he swerved away from it. Somewhere, distantly, it reached him that someone was calling his name. And he ran into something so hard that it sent him onto his backside. His first instinct was to scramble back up to his feet and keep running. Every bit as startled as he was, the guard he had run into looked down at him. Loki didn't move. Then, pulling his hand away from the hilt of his sword, the guard cupped one hand around his mouth and called, "I've got him!" He turned back to where Loki was still sprawled dizzily on the ground, "Come, let's get you back."

Sobbing for breath, he rose, but his knees buckled and he would have fallen if the man hadn't caught him. He threw Loki unceremoniously over his shoulder and tramped through the trees to where the men he had come with met him. They spoke briefly among themselves, though what they said, Loki couldn't quite tell – he felt very much like he was underwater - and he was just glad that he didn't have to move. Then he had been set on a horse with one of the guard behind him and the dark trees were moving farther and farther away.

~.~

"My son, do you know where your brother has gotten to?"

Thor shook his head, "We quarreled earlier today, but then he ran off," he shrugged, "He's probably reading somewhere."

Frigga hadn't seen Loki since the early morning. Thor had told her what he had done, and she suspected that his misdeed was the reason for his prolonged absence.

"You haven't seen him since?"

Thor shrugged again with the sort of careless indifference particular to him, "No."

It wasn't until Loki had been missing for the better part of the day that Frigga truly began to worry.

"Fulla?"

"Yes, my lady?"

"Would you fetch Loki?"

"Yes, my lady."

But she returned with news that the last person to see him was a kitchen maid, Ama, who had seen him running toward the forest. She had guessed it part of one of his games and had thought no more on it. There were untold dangers in the heart of the forest. More than a little panicked, Frigga called for a search.

The evening meal was late in the private chambers where Frigga often chose to dine with her sons, but she could not _think_ of repast before her lost boy was returned to her. She sent Thor down to the hall to eat with his father and the other men, as he so often begged to do, both to please him, and to rid herself of the distraction of his complaints.

The dark was beginning to hover around the corners of the room when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," she sat straighter in her chair, agitation making the movement tense and sudden.

"We found him, in the forest, my Queen," Loki came forward into the light, his clothes dirty and – in a few places – torn, "he seems unhurt." He also seemed unwilling to move further, but stood stiffly, starring blankly at the floor in the far corner of the room.

"Thank you, Fulstaff," she said to the guard, "You have done me great service this day."

He bowed, "My Queen," then saluted – as was proper - and was gone.

The door shut behind him.

Loki still didn't move.

"Come here, my son," he stood for a moment – wavering - but then flung himself toward her, hiding his face – tear-damp and streaked with mud – in her shoulder. "Are you hurt?" he shook his head, "Good. Are you hungry?" He pulled back – she kept a hold of one of his hands, for which he seemed grateful – and rubbed at his eyes with his free hand, nodding. "Alright, then let's get you cleaned up. You may eat, and after, we must discuss what to do about Sif."

"Mother I –"

"No," she cut him off, "We will speak of it after you have eaten. Go and wash your face, change into something clean, and then we will talk."

"Yes Mother," he moved toward the door.

"Loki?"

"Yes Mother?"

"Come here," the boy stepped back and she held him tightly to her, "I'm glad you are safe. Now go and get changed."

**I would have my previously published story **_**Loki's Dream**_** come next (same ages, I think, as this one. I like writing them this age), and then after that maybe **_**First Kill.**_** Neither one (especially the latter) are quite up to my usual standards (by my own opinion. I like to think I'm growing as a writer) but they're both kinda important to what happens later. The former MUCH more than the latter. So if you haven't read **_**Loki's Dream**_**, I would. **


	7. Chapter 7 -Wager (part I)

**Thor – 18-ish * Loki – 15-or so**

**This story takes place almost immediately after Thor got back from some sort of boarding-school/mild-form-of-banishment thing where he had been for the past year. Odin sent him after he lost his temper and destroyed a good portion of the palace. I **_**was**_** going to write something about that, but I was lacking inspiration, and I thought most of the necessary information was communicated throughout the story.**

**I still own nothing, except my compilation of events and representation of mythic characters.**

There was a sound of footfalls and Frigga glanced up. Hodur came into the room and bowed. Frigga noticed that he carried something under his arm. A wrapped bundle. Last time one had returned home carrying such a thing, she had become a mother again. But Hodur hefted the thing with no care, not as one carries a child. He pressed his mailed fist to his heart in salute to his king.

"AllFather,"

"Ah, Hodur," Odin replied, "has Kvasir returned? Tell him that I desire his wisdom on some matters of great import as soon as he may present himself."

The messenger's eyes flicked nervously from the face of the AllFather, to that of his Queen, "The news I bring, AllFather, it is not good."

"Is it the ship?" Frigga asked, a cold dread new-thick on her, "Were they lost?"

Hodur's eyes went pleadingly beyond her to the King.

"Speak."

Hodur sighed, carefully choosing the words, "No, my lady, not – not all of them. It was not the ship." The man shifted uneasily and went to the king, handing him his burden, "They bade me give you this," he said, his voice grave, "They said you would not fail to understand."

Odin took the thing, looking the man in the eye, expression dark, as if he already knew what it was he held, and it was a thing he had long dreaded. He let the cloth fall away, revealing a bottle filled with a thick, deeply red liquid.

"What is it?" Frigga inquired, feeling foreboding in the room like a thick mist.

"Blodugur-Bjor." The AllFather growled. With a sudden and violent motion the like of which she had not seen him employ since before Thor's birth he threw the bottle against the far wall where it shattered, the thick fluid streaming down the wall and pooling red and sticky on the floor.

"Call my sons." He ordered, "They must know what has happened."

Hurriedly, Hodur bowed and left the room.

Knowledge of what had happened settled over her; old memories of a darker time pooling in her mind like the blood on the floor. One hand went trembling to her mouth, the other to the AllFather's strong arm as she watched his hand open and close in a slow fist, "Husband,"

He laid a hand on hers but made no further reply.

"Must they be told, Husband? This is –"

"This is a matter for men. And they are near-enough grown, my queen."

Tears pooled in her eyes as she wrapped her free hand about his arm, "Oh Husband,"

~.~

"You summoned us, Father?" Thor's voice was loud, echoing back to them in the large room as he strode purposefully forward, "What has happened?"

Loki caught the heavy door as it swung toward him. Thor had always had a way of plowing through whatever blocked his way – he had almost forgotten it, in the time that Thor had been gone. Funny, how many things one forgot in those times. The hall was dark, after the brightness of the courtyard where they had been training, and it took Loki's eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness. Once they had, he saw his father, standing, his back to them, hands folded calmly behind him.

"Father?" Thor looked to him, brows quirked down as though to ask if this happened often now.

Loki shrugged. No more often than before. Father spoke when it suited him. Never before. It was useless to press for answers. Rather than ask, Loki scanned the room. His mother stood in the far corner, one arm about her waist, the other up so that her fingers just barely rested on her mouth. Her eyes were wet as though she had been weeping. Alarm took the place of his curiosity and he stepped forward, "Mother,"

She bade him hold his place and his tongue with a quick gesture, hand tightening over her mouth and new tears sliding down her cheeks.

Thor had seen it too, "_What_ has happened?"

Loki could hear the slight stress of the first word in his brother's voice. Thor's tension and impatience were as palpable in the air as the new foreboding brought on by the sight of his mother's tears.

Still, it was a moment before their father spoke, and when he did, he did not turn.

"Know you of the custom of Blodugur-Bjor?"

"Yes." Thor snapped. Loki flinched inwardly. Thor had been sent to live with the thunderers to tame his temper. The results were apparent.

Father's tone remained unruffled, "And what is it?"

Thor opened his mouth, face dark, but Loki came in front of him, "It is a custom found only among the dwarves, a declaration of war between the clans."

Thor glared at him. Loki turned back to their father, pretending he hadn't noticed.

"How is this done?"

Loki could feel Thor ready to snap and hurriedly cut him off, "They capture a prominent member of a rival clan and mix his blood with honey and herbs and send whatever they don't drink to their victim's clan."

"Why are you asking this?" Thor said, "It is an ancient custom, one that has not been employed since the old time –"

Thor's voice stopped as their father spun to face them, revealing the dark staining the wall and the shattered glass on the floor around it.

"Not only in the old time, my son."

Thor recovered his voice first, "They dare to challenge us?" he shouted.

Father didn't respond, but looked between them for a moment before saying lowly, "Kvasir will not be returning to us."

Like something that was happening a long time ago or far away, Loki saw Thor turn to face him, saw the look of shock and rage fly across his face, saw him whirl on their father, heard him shout, "Tell me what clan it was! I swear by the nine realms that not one of them will live to see morning!"

Loki wanted to laugh. In life, Thor had never been fond of the man. Yet now – now that all that was left of him was a stain on the wall – _now_ Thor was angry. But somehow the impulse didn't quite make it to his mouth. There were voices – people speaking – but somehow the words themselves didn't reach him.

A hand touched his shoulder and he jumped, eyes hurriedly focusing on the face of his mother. He didn't know how she had gotten there. A moment before, she'd been across the room. He searched her eyes, blue like Thor's and red with tears. For a confused moment, he almost asked her why, but for once his mouth knew better than his head did and it stayed closed. She touched his cheek lightly with her hand, "Loki,"

"Mother," it felt strange to talk, like he hadn't in some time – but that was ridiculous. The air in the room was still and thick and he wanted to get out of it. "Might I take StormFire out for a time?" The air was too warm, and he thought that he might suffocate.

"Of course." She was worried, he realized, "Only don't go too far, Loki," worried about him, "it's nearly time for supper," why would she be worried about him?

He tried to smile, show her that nothing was amiss, but the motion felt wrong and awkward. She let him go then, and he went to the stable where he saddled his horse, blatantly ignoring the offers of the stable hands to do it for him, and was off.

The fields and forests surrounding the city of Asgard were wide and beautiful, but Loki rode through them this day with hardly a thought to their loveliness. He rode quickly, allowing the spirited horse to carry him far and fast as he would, laughing into the wind that assaulted his face and hardly knowing that he did it. The sun was warm and the horse was strong and solid beneath him, and these were things that were real. Things he could focus on. Real and solid and true and more than the roaring empty shock in him.

They wound up in a wood some time later, and Loki swung himself from the saddle. For no real reason, in particular, but just because he fancied that it might be pleasant to walk for a time alongside his horse.

After a while, he looked to the place of the sun and thought that it was time he got home, Mother would worry if he was late for supper. He hated it when she worried after him, and she had already been so worried today.

With a jolt he remembered the stain on the wall and why it was that she had been worried and next thing he knew he had fallen roughly to his knees and was heaving up the contents of his stomach onto the grass. It hurt, and he didn't move for some time after he had sat up.

Finally, StormFire nudged his shoulder with a gentle whinny and he came back to himself. He looked up at the sun to see that it had traveled a good distance since he had last thought of it. With a sigh he lifted himself and climbed back onto the horse. He leaned forward onto the strong neck, aching with weariness, "Let's go home."

Fulla was waiting for him, hands on hips, when he arrived in the stable.

"You've given your mother quiet a fright with your gallivanting about, Prince. Do you know what hour this is?"

"I'm sorry, Fulla."

He dismounted and began to lead the black horse into the stable, halting with a jerk as she slapped his hand, "Oh no you don't." She snapped, "Get you down to your poor mother and leave that to the stable hands."

Mutely, Loki nodded, and left. He wondered vaguely when he was going to wake up. Everything was moving slow and fuzzy like a dream. He walked, hardly knowing where it was that his feet were taking him, until he found that he had entered the room where his mother was sitting, working at her ever-present needle-work.

The door made a dull sound as it shut behind him and she looked up, "Oh, Loki," she had thrust aside her work and was in front of him, cupping his face in her hands, "I was so worried. You are not to stay out so long on a day such as this. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mother," he managed.

She hugged him tightly for a moment, then let him go, telling him to eat something, showing him the food she had saved for him from their meal. He wasn't hungry in the slightest, but he tried to make a good show of it for her sake.

After some amount of time – long or short Loki had no idea, and his lack of ability to sense time's passing was really beginning to irritate him – the fork slipped from his hand.

"Are you alright, my son?"

"I'm fine." He rubbed at his forehead with his hand, wishing the world would stay focused like it was supposed to, "May I go to bed?"

"Of course, Dear One. May you be blest."

~.~

Coming down the hall toward his chambers, Thor paused. It was hours past dinner, he had been speaking long with the men, and he was bone weary, but it occurred to him that he had not seen his brother since they had heard the news. He remembered the blank, white look that had settled on Loki's face when he had heard. Loki had always loved their teacher, ever since he was a little child.

Thor sighed, maybe it was better to leave him alone, but a memory struck him of a time long ago. Thor had found their father's old hound – Guntar – one morning, and no matter what he had done, nothing would wake the dog. He remembered running to their mother, begging her to fix him. She had explained it to him – tried to console him, but her consolations were small in the face of a boy's first encounter with death. That first night had been the worst, all alone in his huge room, but then his door had been pushed open.

_Thor raised his face from the pillow, batting away the hot tears with his hand, curious to see what had entered, but ashamed to be caught weeping just the same. He needn't have worried. His visitor was only Loki._

"_You should be asleep, Brother,"_

_Loki wasn't paying attention, but was starring at the floor as he came across it, watching that one spot where he inevitably always tripped, but once he had skirted it he grinned up proudly at Thor. When he saw his brother's distress, though, his little face fell._

"_Why are you still so sad?"_

"_Loki," Thor started to complain, but tears bit at the edges of his vision and he didn't want his little brother to see him cry anymore, so he ducked his head down into his arms, "Go back to bed."_

_All was silent for a moment, and Thor thought that maybe he had gone, but then someone began poking his elbow. Repeatedly._

_Finally it was too much, "WHAT?" he raised his head and Loki grinned, then began dancing and making ridiculous faces. Most days, Thor would have found it funny, but he was too miserable to see any humor in it now._

"_Loki, go to b-"_

_His voice caught and he had to duck down fast to hide the tears._

_There was a pad of feet, and Thor assumed his brother had gone, but then the bed squeaked and moved and Loki had squirmed his way under the blankets next to him. A little hand patted his back and shoulder._

"'_S alright Tor, I won'tell,"_

_Thor opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was a sob._

_Loki hugged him._

_After a while, Thor found his voice enough to ask, "You'll stay?"_

"_Uh-huh," came the sleepy reply, and Loki gave him a wet kiss on the forehead._

_For once Thor didn't mind it at all._

Thor pushed the door and it opened smoothly, unlocked as it had always been. "Loki?" There was no sound, no movement, and no light. Thor wondered if Loki remembered that night, he had been hardly more than a baby at the time. Letting the door close softly behind him, he came across the dark room. Loki lay on his side, only part-way under the blankets, which was strange. From all the times Thor had come to wake him in the past, Loki always slept well-beneath them.

He went to touch Loki's shoulder to wake him, but then stopped and settled on just lying down beside him on the large bed.

"What are you doing?"

Loki must have been awake the whole time. There was no way the slight movement had wakened him, his brother could sleep through anything.

"You haven't slept, have you?"

There was a slight pause, then, through the dark, "No."

He fell silent, and Thor thought for sure that he must have fallen asleep, but then he broke the quiet, "What are you doing here?"

He sounded almost accusing, like Thor had done something wrong in coming. "I thought this night, above all nights, might be the one on which you most needed a brother."

The silence dragged out, almost too long before, "Get out, Thor. I want to sleep."

"And I had not forgotten," Thor ignored him, "a night many years ago, and the grief a small boy felt after the loss of a dog."

Loki did not speak again.

~.~

Behind him, Loki could hear Thor's breathing. It was deep now, and slow with sleep. He remembered all the times he had gone to Thor after waking in the night, and all the times Thor had come to him – waking him from the horrors behind his eyes. Thor was always coming to help him, and he hated it – hated how desperately he wanted it – hated how much he had missed it when Thor was away for all that time. Most of all, he hated that Thor _knew._ He knew enough to come. The idiot knew that Loki wouldn't send him away, or when he did that he wouldn't mean it.

_Save your pity. I am hardly the child you left behind._

Oh but he was. He _was._ And the dark was beginning to grow frightening. The night wasn't half as friendly as it had seemed only a few hours before. She had opened her arms offering softness and warmth and sleep but he was tumbling into the open maw of the dark. Kvasir haunted his thoughts. When he closed his eyes, he saw his teacher; in the silence, he heard him. He tried to push it away but it kept coming back again, stronger than before.

"Thor, wake up," his voice sounded ragged, pleading, and he hated it.

Behind him, Thor shifted, moved, "What?"

"Talk to me."

"What?"

"Talk." _Please. Just keep talking._

Thor sounded more awake now, Loki could feel him propping himself up, hear him rubbing at his face, "What is it that you want me to say?"

"I don't care." He tried to keep the trembling out of his voice, but couldn't quite manage it. Mercifully, if Thor heard it, he gave no sign. He began to speak, with the complete absence of questions, telling Loki things about Vingnir and Hlora, the keepers of the lightning, and the things that they had taught him while he stayed with them. He told him of the travelers that would come to their Keep, and the stories that they would tell. And Loki listened to him. There was an aching that radiated out from a place in his chest, blossoming throughout his entire body, and Thor's words gave him something else to focus on. He didn't know what Thor was saying anymore - didn't care. The hurt and the dark were unkind friends, but he felt the sting less when he could hear his brother's voice.

Loki woke with a jolt some hours later, sure that Kvasir was shaking his shoulder to wake him, perhaps to go out and see the stars, as he had that first night after Thor had left when he had felt alone.

"_Come, Prince, the night is wasting."_

"_What are we doing?"_

"_Doing? Why, the stars this night are something spectacular. Did I not tell you of this earlier in the day?"_

_Loki shook his head, glad for the distraction from the disturbed lack-of-sleep, pushing himself up in the bed._

"_Hm," he saw Kvasir's brow wrinkle almost convincingly, "It must have slipped my mind."_

_Loki tugged on his tunic and followed the man up the steep staircase to the roof-top. Kvasir never forgot. He never lost track._

_They reached the cool of the night air, and it was colder than he had expected. He pulled the cloak he snatched on his way tighter about him. Kvasir laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, almost as if he had meant it only for warmth, or for direction._

_Loki glanced at the hand, then up to the face of his teacher. Kvasir wasn't looking at him, but out at the great expanse of burning stars above them. Suddenly he pointed._

"_Loki, look!"_

_It was beautiful – the star – trailing its fiery tail behind it as it shot across the black night. In spite of himself, Loki smiled._

_And Kvasir never let go._

But as Loki opened his eyes, the words to ask what they were doing died on his tongue and he remembered all that had happened. Thor was deeply asleep, one arm thrown across him and for whatever reason Loki couldn't stand it being there and squirmed out from under it to a place farther from his brother where he was nearly out of reach on the edge of the huge bed. There was a high, keening sound coming from somewhere behind his teeth and he couldn't make it stop. He twisted over onto his stomach and drove his face down past the slippery wetness that had somehow become of his arms and into the fabric beneath him.

~.~

Thor was wakened by the sound of Loki's frenzied weeping. The boy had burrowed himself deeply into the pillow at his head, but that could only muffle so much and Thor had always been easy to wake. He fumbled his hand free of the blankets and laid an arm over his little brother, feeling muddled and stupid with sleep. "Easy, Brother," Loki was trying to fill his lungs, choking on his own breath, "easy, easy,"

~.~

Loki groaned and opened his eyes. He was stiff and sore and everything was dully gray. Thor's arm was loosely around his chest from behind. Carefully, he lifted it off and wriggled out from under it – under him. Thor was still sleeping – thank the Norns. Loki tried to ease himself out of the bed. He couldn't stand being here anymore. The night was too long and he needed to get out. He almost fell as the edge of the bed came up at him but, with a ragged gasp he caught himself against the dressing table.

Loki crept down the deserted halls, his feet leading him almost unwillingly down the way he had followed so many times, to the library. It was a lonely place, now, without its lord. Loki went from shelf to shelf, caressing the spines of the books as he passed, feeling the thick sadness that was there. His feet were slow and heavy now, and he was _so_ tired. He traced the gilt lettering on the spine of one of the books. Suddenly, intense curiosity as to which book it was settled on him. It didn't really matter, but it was something and that alone made it worth pursuit. His fingers couldn't decipher the letters. For a bare moment he glared at them. He began to summon a spark in his fingertips but was sharply halted.

"_Stop!"_

_Loki drew back his hand, suddenly frightened. He had thought that he was alone. The library was always empty. A man swooped down on him, catching his wrist. He sounded angry. The way he had spoken was the way Father spoke when Loki had done something terribly wrong. What had he done now?_

"_Do not – ever – light a fire within a library. Do you understand? Not even one that you think you can control."_

_Loki nodded, blinking back the tears that wanted to fall. Father said that he cried too much and he was trying to stop, but the man had frightened him. The man sighed, closing his eyes, running a hand over his face and loosened his grip on Loki's wrist – not quite enough for him to slip away – not just yet._

"_I'm sorry, Prince. I should not have startled you so. You did not mean harm."_

_Loki starred. No one apologized to him. Royalty or no, he was still a child, and a very young one at that. Loki didn't think he'd even heard someone apologize to Thor before._

"_It is only that I have known many fires started by people who never meant for it to happen – in places just like this."_

"_You mean libraries?"_

"_Yes, but where I'm from, they're called 'leabharlann'"_

_Loki laughed, "Really?"_

_The man nodded, then asked, "Am I forgiven, Prince?"_

"_My name's Loki."_

"_Again, my apologies. Am I forgiven, Loki?"_

"_What's your name? I forgot."_

_The man laughed, but it was a nice laugh, like he actually thought Loki was funny, not like the women laughed at him, like he was a pet. "My name is Kvasir."_

_Loki nodded, "Yes."_

_Deciding something suddenly, Loki looked up to the man's face – not that there was far to look with the man crouched beside him as he was, "I like you."_

"_And I, you."_

_The way he smiled, Loki believed him. He didn't notice until then that the man had let go of his wrist._

"_Sorry," Loki said suddenly, "I didn'mean to scare you."_

"_Oh, that's alright, just, if you need to see something better, try making a different kind of light. No fire. Like this."_

_The man turned his palm and Loki saw a pool of white light in it, like he had cupped his hand to catch water._

_Excitement bubbled up inside him, "You can do it too?"_

_He had thought that he was the only one, besides Freja, and she was a lady, so she didn't really count._

"_Not much more than this,"_

"_Show me how."_

_Soon, Loki was pouring the light from one hand to the other, flashing it around while Kvasir watched. Loki looked at him between the catch and the release._

"_Why'r you hiding?"_

_Kvasir shook his head, "What?"_

"_People don't come here very much. I only came here…"_

_On second thought, he didn't want to say why. Kvasir didn't need to know._

_And he didn't push to know. He shrugged, "I like the books,"_

"_But you never came before."_

_Kvasir smiled, "Maybe the Norns knew I'd find a friend."_

_Loki missed his catch and the light spilled out and disappeared. He hardly noticed. Kvasir was still smiling at him._

_And Loki smiled back._

His hand fell limply to his side, the silver streak that twinkled like a star falling out of the sky slipping from his fingers and fading away unseen. The firm pressure of the books felt good against his forehead. The leather was soft. The smell of the old manuscripts was strong, but good.

Sudden irrevocable anger boiled up in his chest and he straightened from the shelf. A bitter taste coated his tongue and made him want to scream and break and rend and tear. They couldn't do this. The dwarves would be punished. He knew that his father had been in counsel for the main part of the time after the news had been given, but by the time the thing had been decided and a proper force had been mustered the little tunnel-rats would have slunk away to gather for an attack on their own time. Something had to be done _now_. Something small that they would take no notice of. No, something that they _would_ take notice of, but would see no duplicity to until it was too late.

It was clear.

Loki almost laughed, but he thought that if he did he would never stop.

~.~

to be continued

~.~


	8. Chapter 8 - Wager part II

**Continued**

Fulla stepped into the musty library, peering between the shelves, "Prince?" When Thor had left his chambers and come to greet his mother an hour or so ago, Frigga had asked if he had seen his brother. The elder prince had been startled and said that, no, he had assumed Loki had woken early and that he would have found him with her. He told her that they had spent much of the night together and that their teacher's death was not a thing he had taken well. Seeing that his horse was still in the stables, Frigga had thought the libraries good places to look.

Now, here she was, creeping between the shrouded halls. She shuddered. She had never been overly fond of the man. He had been pleasant. Odd, but pleasant. It was hard to think that he had been slain. It had been a long while since any she had known had met death.

"Loki?" the stripling had always been a bothersome child. Sharp and quick and always hiding and refusing to answer when called only to burst out as she was about to tread on him and make her scream then run laughing away. She half expected it now, though it was something he had done less in recent time. And she only half expected it, after having seen him last night. All glassy-eyed and docile. She had never seen either of the princes act thus.

But even so, this behavior had begun to wear at her patience long ago. "Lo-" she stopped, because she had come upon him. He was sitting on the floor by the back wall with his knees drawn up and his forehead resting upon them. Blearily, the boy raised his head. Only briefly did he look at her, but it was enough for her to see the wet streaks down his face telling of the largely-sleepless night he had endured.

"Are you alright, Prince?"

He made no move to answer her, or even to show that he had heard.

"Your mother sent me to fetch you to break your fast,"

Shaking his head, the boy rose and wandered between the shelves where his aunt couldn't see him.

"Loki,"

When she came around the corner of the shelf, the boy was gone.

~.~

Brokk was not as young as he had once been. He was old, red hair and beard long-since turned to gray. But age had only made him more shrewd and cunning in his dealings. The dwarf had few friends, foolish followers, and many enemies. It didn't stop him from staying here, though. Late in the night at a surface tavern for the travelers who chose to visit – for whatever reason – the realm Svartalfheim. As far as he could see, the surface of the realm held little charm, but still they came, and the tavern was busy whenever he chose to venture out to it.

Eitri had been a great dwarf. Skilled and cunning, the maker of great wonders before the time of Odin-AllFather. Some claimed that it was he who first forged the great Gullinbursi – the golden boar of Alfheim. Brokk did not know the truth of it, but he did not doubt it. To this day, Alfheim was known for the gullinbursi that populated it, not as grand as their predecessor to be sure, but fearsome nonetheless. The house of Eitri had always been known for its darker magiks. That was why, in the rise of Odin-AllFather, they had been driven to menial labor, while the sons of Ivaldi rose to prominence.

The loss of their standing had been the thing that drove Eitri to madness. Brokk just barely remembered the time before, but he remembered well the time after – the dragons and beasts Eitri – in his infirmity – had created before the magic was stripped from him. By the AllFather had this been done. By the AllFather had Eitri – greatest of the clan fathers – been slain. His son, Svalar, had been consumed by the she-dragon Jord not many years later, when Brokk had still been no more than a child. Fatherless, Brokk had grown, hating always the Realm and the king that had brought his people so low.

But now Brokk was old. It would not be long before he went beyond the sunset to join his ancestors. He had little to loose. Life meant nothing to him without the vengeance he so longed for. And when the AllFather had sent his delegation to Fjalarheim – the temptation had been too great. It was a rash thing, to kill the diplomat sent by Asgard, but a bear could be driven mad by the sting of a bee. As long as the bee had no great love for his own life, he could do much damage. It could be a long time before the Asgardians – made fat and slow beyond telling by their greatness in the realms – made a move. And Brokk would be far off by then. The Aesir were tall and not suited for tunnels. Their eyes were weak from looking into the fiery face of their suns and unsuited to the tunnels. When they were drawn in….Brokk felt his lips stretch into a sharp-toothed smile around the pipe between his crooked teeth. Tunnel fighting was bloody. Especially for the arrogant and untrained.

Brokk's attention was drawn from his brooding to a certain disturbance that was growing quite loud by the bar. Wearily, Brokk closed his eyes. It was that idiot, Galar. Hot-blooded fool. Brokk had thought better than to bring his sister-son with him – the youth had always been easily angered – more so after a drink. It appeared that he was at it again. Brokk began to move – but then abruptly aborted the movement and sat back, watching through the pipe smoke with a new interest.

Galar had chosen, as his particular opponent tonight, a rather interesting character. A youth. Tall and lean, with very dark hair and sharp features. Brokk knew the face. He had scryed it many times. It paid to know the faces of your enemy's sons. Better it was to ravage the daughters, but when female blood was lacking, the blood of a son would do just as well.

So, the old man had allowed his whelp to travel. Interesting. Not uncommon in second sons, though this one did seem young, and a trifle too fond of his drink. As Brokk watched, a sudden suspicion caught hold of his mind. The posture was too studied. For whatever reason, the whelp was feigning intoxication.

Galar, unfortunately, was not.

The two were arguing, arguing which was the best dwarf smith. Galar stoutly upheld the value of his own clan – Brokk was duly impressed that at this stage he even remembered which it was – while the whelp spoke of the wonders wrought by the sons of Ivaldi. He made much of them, speaking of wonders of which Brokk had never even heard. There was no way the old doddered had crafted such things, but of course, the whelp had to speak well of the house that supplied his sire's needs.

It wasn't long before a wager was laid. Galar's addled head against the stripling's own that the house of Eitri could make no finer marvel than that crafted by the house of Ivaldi.

Brokk smiled again around his pipe.

Then there was the problem of letting the clan know of the challenge. The whelp volunteered his services, to which Galar immediately refused. Brokk lost track of the agreement for a short time, due to the expulsion from the tavern of some rowdy customers by the bartender, but by the time the words floated back to him through the pipe smoke that wreathed his head, it was apparent that Galar's doubts had been overridden by some charm the whelp had given him as token. Interesting. With a few words exchanged between them, the whelp left the tavern – far too steadily for one as inebriated as he had been bare moments ago. Very interesting indeed.

~.~

Ivaldi was working late one night, deep in the bowels of the warren he and his sons had dug, when the candle on the little table before him flickered. There was no wind save by bellows or movement buried this deep below the surface, and nothing had moved. Ivaldi's old brow wrinkled, hands stilling as he peered forward into the little flame.

It went out.

Muttering curses, the old dwarf fumbled for a light and struck it against the wick.

There was a darkly-cloaked figure before him.

It was no dwarf. That much was sure. The height was too tall and body far too slender. Mayhap a woman. That would explain the appearance. A Vanir woman. The cloak hooded the face beyond the discernment of any features at all.

"Good evening, Smith."

The voice was cultured, imperious, _and_ male. A youth then. A youth of some court. The accent was one he vaguely recognized. There was too much in his old head for everything to be apparent at once.

"Good evening," he returned, "And how may I help my Lord?"

The figure came forward, up to his work-table. A thin hand extended from between the folds of the cloak and fingered the chain, "As delicate as spider-silk, as strong as roots of the mountain, and as silver as the back of a night-fish. It is truly a pretty thing."

"'Tis but a trifle. How might I help you this late night, Lord? It is not common for those of your breed to venture the tunnels in the deep-dark."

"You have my apologies," the figure paused, then gave a breath of a laugh, " but I seem to have found myself in a bit of a quandary, Friend Smith,"

"Oh?" Ivaldi quirked a brow, "And what kind of quandary might that be, Lord?"

The stripling sighed, "No doubt you have heard the tale before, where tavern boasting was taken a bit farther than belief and challenges are made – bets – if you will."

"Has my Lord placed a risky bet?"

"You might say so," the figure chuckled, "Though I leave it to you to define the risk. I have placed a bet against the sons of Eitri," Ivaldi bristled at the name of his greatest rival clan, "…_and in_ your favor. There is to be a contest between your clans to see who might create the greatest marvel."

"What sort of marvel?"

"Any sort. I have only one condition."

"And that is?"

"It must win the bet."

"But of course." Ivaldi cocked his head at the stranger, "I make no objection to ignorance of my customers identity, but how does a youth come to bet upon the sons of Ivaldi?"

"You forge all weaponry of the AllFather's store, yes?"

"Since the day of my birth or may I be stone."

The visitor gave a crisp nod, "Good. Then what is of enough excellence for the AllFather will be enough to win my bet."

The old dwarf eyed the figure, "And in what might my payment consist?"

"You are lacking in gold?"

"No. Gold holds no worth to me."

"Would the final defeat of the house of Eitri be enough to entice you?"

"And what is your quarrel with the house of Eitri?"

"That," the figure snapped, "is none of your concern. Suffice it to say that I have bet a high price for your name. Do you accept the challenge?"

"Who is to judge?"

"The AllFather himself."

The dwarf leaned forward, attempting to peer up under the hood to catch a glimpse of the face beneath it.

The figure moved away, "Do you accept?"

Ivaldi gave it barely a moment's thought, anyone who could entice the AllFather to judge such a challenge was bound to have enough power to make good on his bargain. "I do."

"Good." The stranger nodded once, "See that it is delivered to the High Halls of Asgard in three days time."

Ivaldi stood as the figure moved toward the door, "My Lord," he called. The figure stilled though it did not turn, "Might I know your name?"

The head turned then, "I am called by many names," and in the wavering light Ivaldi saw the flash of teeth bared in a grin, "you may call me Silver-tongue."

Then the candle flickered out.

~.~

Thor stormed though the hall, face dark and strides long. It had been three days. _Three days_ since the challenge had been made by the sneaking little midgets and _nothing_ was being done. True, Father said that the counsel had made great progress, but what good was 'great progress' without action? By the time they had finally _done_ anything, the dwarves would have scuttled back down into their endless tunnels and there would be no getting them out again until they found some other helpless wayfarer to waylay and desecrate.

And add to that that he hadn't spoken to his brother since the night after it happened. Seen him, yes. Brief sightings – scuttling at the edge of his vision, but never any words or even eye-contact. The boy was lost in a world of his own – he didn't even return to his bed-chambers at night – or if he did, it was long after Thor had fallen asleep, and he was up far earlier which was something that Loki had never done in their youth and Thor had already been gone for a good while and why did things have to be wrong and different as soon as he returned? By the World Tree – he was worried.

Father would let him do nothing. And the endless meetings were enough to make his head burst. Everyone else had a _purpose, _some business to ready for the attack – however eventual the grey-beards would make it.

Then he caught sight of his brother – only a few paces ahead of him this time, "Loki!"

So lost in his own world was his little brother, that he gave no response.

Thor opened his stride to catch up with him, laid a hand on his shoulder to stop him and spin him around and _make_ him communicate like a sane person – and his hand went straight through. With a shimmer, the double winked out of existence.

Cold understanding flushed through him. _Of course._ Loki must have gone on ahead to hold them – a distraction – as he had been _so_ many times in their childhood games. He had gone – he must have gone some time during the night on that first night – after Thor had fallen asleep. Norns only knew what had become of him. _If_ he found the clan responsible, what would they do to him? Would they recognize him?

Muttering curses, Thor whirled on his heel and ran.

"Father!"

Thor came crashing through the great doors as if they weren't there.

The AllFather acted as though he hadn't heard.

Growling, Thor strode forward, nearly tripping over the two dwarves that knelt before his father's throne.

"What is the meaning of this?"

The dwarves stoutly ignored him – which only make him want to strangle them more, so he turned his attention to his father.

"Father?"

"They have come with a contest, my son. One which, by their laws, may only be judged by the highest ruler in all the realms for it was issued as a challenge by one of noble blood."

"I know of the customs of the dwarves, Father." Thor growled, "But one of the clans has issued a decree of war on us, and now you would…" Thor fumbled for words, "judge their little bets? We should lock them -"

"Hold your tongue." It was a tone Thor had not heard in a long while and it was one he knew better than to disobey.

The AllFather raised his eyes to the expectant dwarves who had remained impassive and silent the entire time. As was also their custom, Thor remembered, no word by either might be spoken before the judging was completed and they had returned to their clan. The first words from their mouths must be to their clan leaders, telling word of the outcome. "The ship serves better purpose."

Bowing their thanks, and with no sign to which the ship belonged, the two left the room.

Only when they were good and truly gone with the doors shut behind them did Odin raise his eye to his son, "What was it you came to say, my son?"

"They have declared war on Asgard and you judge their games?"

"These two have not."

"But what of their clans? How do you know that this was not a trick to get within our walls and number out defenses – a distraction to keep us occupied as they launched an attack?"

"Thor?"

The older man did not continue, so Thor answered, subduing his voice to the best of his ability, "Yes, Father?"

"What time of the day is it?"

"Nearing midday,"

"Then how might the dwarves launch an assault? The sun – Stone-maker they call her - is at the height of her power."

"Then why do they come to you now?"

"They have no choice, Thor. They will take whatever audience I choose to give them."

Thor growled under his breath and suddenly remembered his brother and why he'd come in the first place, "And while you sit idly by and judge for them, Loki could be in grave peril!"

"What news have you of your brother," Odin asked calmly, "Your mother tells me she saw him only this morning, walking in the gardens and in no greater peril than you are now – less, in fact."

His Father short him a meaningful look, but Thor pressed on, regardless, "They are doubles. My brother has gone to hold the dwarves until we can manage to muster an attack."

"Are you sure of this?"

"YES!"

"How?"

Thor was beside himself with impatience, "I know my brother and _that _was _not_ him. He could be in great danger now if the dwarves have him and know who he is."

The AllFather remained calm, "How would he know which clan to direct his efforts?"

It was all Thor could do to not lash out or scream in rage, "If I knew that," he said slowly, barely biting back his temper, "I would be there now in the defense of my family and my home. Kvasir was sent to all the clans. It would not be hard to find where his trips ended – not for one so honey-tongued as my brother."

"You wish to be sent to fetch him." Odin stated after a moment's thought.

"No. I wish to go to defend my home."

"This I will not allow." Before Thor could react he continued, "I am sending Tyr as commander – to lead an attack on the house of Eitri. You will go, on an entirely separate mission – to retrieve your brother."

"But Father –"

"I have spoken. You should ready yourself, my son. You leave at sunset."

~.~

Loki was tired of the dank, dark tunnels. He had been here, held by his bet, for the past two days. He had hoped that this would have been more than enough time for his father to launch an attack. Apparently, it was not.

Nervously, he flicked a little flame into his hand and ran it across his palm, watching the leering shadows it cast parade across the walls.

He wondered detachedly what it had been like for Kvasir, those last days. He had always loved travel, had the tunnels been an adventure for him, or an obstacle to be crossed before the real adventure was begun? Had they killed him on sight, or accepted him into the warren in a façade of friendship? Had he seen through the ruse before the end had come? The flame in his hand exploded out, cutting through the barrier between it and his finger, burning his hand. Cursing, he rubbed gingerly at his finger. The dull ache that had settled into his chest with something like permanence these past days had become sharp and pained while he had wandered in his thoughts. He took a deep breath, attempting to still his raveling thoughts – when the door of the hole they had put him in opened. Loki schooled his face to pleased surprise at the intrusion.

The dwarf that faced him made no such movement. His expression was one of devil's joy.

Loki's heartbeat quickened – every muscle in his body tensing as a second and a third figure backed the first.

"It was a rash wager," the first grinned, rubbing the knuckles of his fist. Then he laughed "To think that you thought you could defeat the House of Eitri!"

Behind him, the others laughed.

"The judging was held, then?" Loki asked, keeping his voice fiercely level. As he kept them talking, he reached for his magic.

The second dwarf laughed, "That will not work this time, little mage."

Before Loki rightly knew what was happening the light – what little of it there was – had gone out and they had come at him and driven him roughly to the ground. These were creatures whose occupation was the pounding metal into various shapes. One of them was hitting him again and again against the ground until he stopped struggling to rise – dizzy and half-conscious - and they bound his arms behind him. Then they thrust him to his feet and pushed him out into the tunnel.

The dark was oppressive. Loki could see nothing, but the dwarves had no care for that. They forced him on, hardly slowing when he fell, dragging him when he couldn't get his feet under him fast enough for their liking. His lip was cut and bleeding down his chin, but that was the least of his concerns.

It had never crossed his mind that Ivaldi might fail.

They came into a larger room then, one vaguely lit to about the brightness of twilight, but even that was bright after all the dark. Loki's foot caught on a stone in the doorway that was lost in shadow and he fell again, catching himself on his knees. One of his drivers caught him by the back of his collar and threw him forward into the room. With his hands bound as they were behind him, his face hit the ground. Someone hauled him back to his knees and he spat the blood and dirt onto the floor.

There was a low sound then, behind the jabber of the dwarves that had drug him in, a disapproving _tsk tsk_ sound. Breathing heavily, Loki raised his head.

"Come now, Fjalar, Sindri, Galar, is this any way to treat a guest?"

It was the old dwarf. The head of this clan. Brokk, Loki thought. He sat at the far end of the room, half-asleep, puffing on a long-stemmed pipe.

"This stranger has made a wager," one of them said, "his head against mine that The Sons of Ivaldi could beat The Sons of Eitri in a contest of marvels."

The words had the faint ring of ceremony to them, but Loki was hardly listening. There had to be a way out. Had to.

"The judging has been held," a new voice rumbled from behind him, then louder, a triumphant shout, "The House of Eitri has prevailed!"

A roaring went up around the edges of the room and Loki glanced about – completely startled. There were many dwarves in the room, all standing about with fierce elation written all over their hairy little faces. All of them were watching, waiting, he realized, for the fulfillment of the bet.

There was the scrape of a drawn blade and Loki swiveled around again, heart beating bird-high in his chest. One of the dwarves – Galar – he thought – had drawn a thick sword, "On your knees, whelp."

Loki made no move to comply, but the two behind him seemed to have expected that and one of them knocked him behind the knees and he fell. He had barely managed to regain his balance when he felt rather than saw Galar raise his blade high above his head for the final blow.

"Stop!" It was Loki's own voice, and he continued, forcing the words out in a frantic tumble, "Stop! I bet only my head. You have no claim to my neck."

By the dismayed silence in the room, Loki could tell that he had found his way out. By their laws, they should have his head. But by those same laws, they could lay no claim to it.

There was a clatter of metal as Galar cast down his weapon and a wave of sound swelled up as all of the dwarves in the room began talking all at once. Panting for breath, Loki looked to the one dwarf who did not speak. Brokk. The old dwarf puffed impassively at his pipe, seeming not to hear the commotion.

"Silence."

The command was not loudly given, but was instantly obeyed by all in the dimly lit chamber.

Finally, when all was silent, the Brokk stood.

"It was a shrewd move, Loki, Odinson."

There was a collective gasp as Loki gaped at him. He had given a false name, and all the while, the old dwarf must have known.

"It was well played. Yet now, the question remains. What are we to do with you?"

"We should kill him!" Galar shouted hotly.

Brokk made that same clicking sound with his tongue, "Kill the second-son to the AllFather?" he shook his head, "Unwise, Sister-son, unwise."

"Then we are to let him go?"

Brokk gave a chuckle, low in his throat that set Loki's hair on end, "Never, did I say that. He has yet his bet to pay."

Loki licked his lips nervously, tasting blood, "You can't have my head without touching my neck, and with it I made no bargain."

"You cheated!" Galar interrupted emphatically.

Brokk silenced him with a wave of his gnarled hand.

"So by your own laws," Loki finished, "you must release me."

Brokk laughed again, pacing closer to where Loki knelt, "You know, I expected a bit more from the AllFather, after killing his long-time friend and councilor."

Loki caught his breath sharply.

"I was expecting," the old dwarf shrugged, "well, at least an army. But instead, he sent you. What were your orders, Prince?"

Seething, Loki shouted without thinking, "I had none! I came on my own!"

Brokk's eyebrows flew up, "Daddy doesn't know you're here then. How… interesting."

He caressed the word with just enough care to alert Loki to his mistake and set his heart racing. He swallowed thickly, raising his eyes as the dwarf prowled closer, "By your laws –"

"_By_ our laws, we have no right to lay a finger to your neck." He laughed again, chuckling low in his throat and reached out a calloused thumb, rubbing away the line of blood from Loki's lip, "But as pretty as it is," the dwarf eyed his throat and Loki barely swallowed down a shiver, "I have no need of your neck."

~.~

Loki collapsed to the hard, wet floor where they threw him when it was over. The door clanged shut, enveloping him in merciful darkness. His breath came fast, in shallow gasps and everything throbbed. He blinked blearily at the lack-of-light around him, then let his eyes shut and his head go weakly down against the slippery ground. He was dizzy from lack of oxygen, but every breath send flames through him. Blood trickled down his throat – which was already raw with screaming. Every part of him hurt, his mouth most of all, but things were better when he didn't move – didn't breathe.

The darkness was warm and syrupy thick, rasping in and out of his nose as he struggled to breathe through the pain. Images flashed through his mind, punctured always by the bursts of fire from his mouth as he breathed. Images of Kvasir telling him about how he had traveled with Odin in his youth – of the way his mother's eyes sparkled when she smiled at him – the way Kvasir had looked, that last day – how Thor, when they had been told, had turned to him. Images of the dwarves, and how they had first held him down to do their work, then images of them swaying, arm in arm, bloody goblets in their gnarled hands and red smears across their faces. Loki shied away, trying to speak, to call for the pictures to stop, but the cords bit and drew blood and he tried to scream, but there was a burst of pain – and then everything faded.

~.~

There was fogginess. But through the fog, Loki's eyes were stabbed by light. There was sound, alarmed, maybe angry, but it came to him as though through water and he couldn't touch it. But even then, it didn't stop. Hands touched him, hands that didn't intend to break him, and he tried to reach for them, but then they were gone. Loki was tired and he couldn't understand what the voice said and he hurt. It didn't matter in the end. The hands and voice vanished, leaving the milky light behind and a fluttering in the black like ravens wings that struck his face with a rain of feathers. They were his father's ravens he thought. They stood on his shoulders and peered down at him with their bright eyes, pecking out melodies from the cords like a scald on a harp. It hurt, but it made a beautiful music, and Loki didn't have it in him to scream any longer.

~.~

Thor pounded down the winding tunnel behind the raven. It was too easy to loose sight of the black bird in all this dark, and the torch he held in his hand barely helped – merely creating more shadows that masqueraded and his father's bird.

They were on the level of the dungeons, closer to the surface than the rest of the warren, due to the dwarves' ever-present fear of the sun. He had long since lost all sense of direction, but that was alright, because clearly Munin had not. Finally, the raven flew to a place and stopped, pumping the air with his wings. Nearing the place, Thor saw a door in the wavering torchlight. He didn't slow, but ran directly at it. With a shuddering, splintering shriek, the door gave and Thor crashed triumphantly into the cell. "Loki!" But glancing around, grin fading, he saw nothing. "Munin," he looked up to the bird, "Why did you bring me here?"

The bird, finding a perch on some imperfection in the wall, began preening himself.

Giving a long suffering sigh, Thor swept the torch across the room, casting its light in the far corners. That was the only reason he saw him. His heart leapt sickly to somewhere in his throat as he darted forward and dropped to his knees beside his brother's crumpled body. "Loki," he touched his shoulder, sweeping the wavering light across him, assessing the damage. Whatever they had done to him, it wasn't good. Loki's clothes were torn – Thor could see purpling bruises against the paleness of his skin in the dark – but there wasn't much blood, except around his face. _They must have hit him._ Nothing appeared to be broken – which was impressive, knowing the strength of the dwarves and seeing as much evidence of a fight as there was.

Loki wasn't moving, there was hardly a flicker to let Thor know that his brother was alive. "Loki," he took hold of his shoulder, ignoring the injuries in light if the more serious unconsciousness, and gave him a rough shake – a technique he'd used to wake him so often in their youth. The movement did nothing to wake his brother, but it _did_ cast light on a thing that he had – up to this point – missed.

A thin black cord cut obscenely across Loki's mouth, again and again, cutting in just above the upper lip and out again under the lower one. That was the source of the blood. They had stitched Loki's mouth shut.

"Munin," Father had told him to fetch his brother, and return immediately to Asgard. But there was no way that he had known what the dwarves had done. There was no way for him to have seen that the dwarves had sewn his brother's lips closed. They would know that such a thing was not to be done lightly, "Mind him."

He didn't wait for the bird to communicate any kind of reply.

~.~

To be continued

~.~


	9. Chapter 9 - Wager (part III)

**Continued and completed**

Tyr pushed back the sweat-damp hair from his forehead with the back of his wrist, never loosening his grip on the sword he held. Thor stood beside him, witnessing the carnage left at the close of such a grand battle as this. He had seen battle before, but never one like this.

"Did they find the House-Head?"

Tyr nodded and pointed mutely with his weapon toward a pile of bodies on the far side of the chamber. Then the man turned to him, "Where is your brother?"

_Loki_. Thor thought of the stitches and he felt sick and angry. "He was injured. I left him with Munin."

"You'd best fetch him then, and take him home."

Coming to the remains of the door he had crashed through, Thor dropped onto his knees beside his brother. He shook his shoulder again, "Loki?" There was no answer and Thor swore, looking up at the edges of the room for the raven. He found the bird, still perched on the wall. He turned back to his brother, lifting his head and shoulders off the cold ground and onto his knees "Loki, wake up. I've come to take you home." The stitches made him feel helpless and completely useless. He looked up at the bird, "What am I supposed to do now?"

The raven gave a shrill cackle, and Thor felt his brother start.

"Loki!"

He moved vaguely, like he was trying to wake – a sight Thor was familiar with from all the times he had gone to wake his little brother from his nightmares. Loki moaned and slowly opened his eyes.

"Brother, I've come to bring you home."

Loki blinked at him blearily for a moment, but then Thor felt his whole body jerk as understanding and recognition struck. His hands began to move to touch him, like he couldn't quite believe that Thor was really there, but at the same time, Thor saw his jaw move in an attempt to speak and his hands snapped back with a strangled sound, hovering over his mouth – afraid to touch it. Tears slid through the mess on his face.

"Shh, Loki don't – don't speak. I'll look after you now."

Loki's eyes closed heavily and Thor went to lift him. But Loki, it seemed, would have none of that. His eyes snapped open and he sat up, pushing Thor away, fighting unsteadily to his feet. He almost fell and Thor rose hurriedly to steady him, "Brother, you're not well, let me carry you."

Loki shook his head stubbornly and pushed him away.

"Loki, you'll not be able to make it to the door."

He did make it to the door, but not much farther before he stumbled and fell, barely catching himself against the wall. He was breathing hard, and it only occurred to Thor then how much one uses one's mouth to breathe.

"Brother, let me help you,"

Loki shook his head and kept on, tracing one hand against the slick, black wall for support. Thor followed him, holding the torch, and Munin flew before.

They got on, well enough, and the pace wasn't too maddeningly slow, until they came to a place where a tunnel branched off from the one they were in, and Loki didn't see it. Leaning, as he was, on the wall, and suddenly having none there, he lost his balance and fell in.

"Brother," Thor went down and slid an arm under his brother's and across his back to help him to his feet. Loki's eyes were out of focus, like he was very dizzy, and, again, Thor went to lift him. But all he got was a swat in the face for his trouble. "You're being a mule. Will you not just –" Thor gave an aggravated sigh and pushed up beside him. Without a word, he put his arm across Loki's back, taking a good portion of his weight. Loki tried to move away but Thor only gripped him tighter and growled, "Move."

Loki made no further protest after that.

It wasn't long before he tripped on something – his own feet, perhaps, Thor couldn't tell – and went sharply down, nearly pulling Thor over with him. "That's enough." Thor picked him up then and when he was in no way dissuaded, he became alarmed. Loki was barely conscious.

The entrance to the tunnel couldn't be far.

Thor began to run.

They burst out into the sun, the raven crowing triumphantly, what seemed like it could have been hours – or minutes – later. It hurt his eyes and made it nearly impossible to see, after the ever-present dark of the tunnels. Startled, he stopped, nearly blinded, and Loki flinched back against him with a sound almost like a whimper. Thor's sight returned to him quickly and he kept on. The goat cart was where he had left it, with Tanngniostr and Tanngrisnt contentedly chewing on the sparse grass. He put Loki in the cart, then jumped on himself, whipping the goats into a run.

Loki slumped weakly against his shoulder. Thor looked to him. In the light his face was deathly pale, marred with blood and dirt and bruises that purpled the skin of his face and even his neck. A trickle of bright blood leaked from the ragged mess of his mouth. Worry for his brother and hot rage at his attackers simmered violently in Thor's chest.

"All will be well, Brother. I'm taking you home."

~.~

"Mother!"

Frigga shot to her feet. Thor had come into the room, carrying something in his arms.

"Thor, what has happened?"

Thor didn't answer, but took his crumpled burden to the bed on the far side of the room, "He needs Eir. Where is she?"

"He-" Frigga leaned around the fabric of the cloak Thor wore and caught her breath. Loki's face was covered with bruises and dried blood – she refused to focus on what they had done to his mouth. She closed her own lips tightly, composing herself.

"Where is she?"

"Likely, she is busy, my son." Frigga took a deep breath, "Vidar brought back quite a few wounded from the attack. I suspect she will be busy for some time."

"Would not the healing stones-"

"They could not be applied now, Thor. They would heal him wrongly."

Thor muttered what could have been a curse, pacing restlessly across the floor, "I will find her. She will heal her prince."

Before Frigga could do more than open her mouth, her older boy was gone with a sweep of cloak and a crash of the doors closing behind him. The sound that came out from her lips was not any of the words she had meant to say, but something closer to a soft moan. She covered her mouth with her suddenly shaking hand, turning back to the bed. Loki was sprawled on the coverlet where Thor had laid him, both his clothes and skin torn and filthy.

"Gefjon," her voice was unsteady and she paused to steady it as the handmaid came obediently from her place, "Gefjon, fetch me water."

"Yes, Lady," she curtsied and vanished from the room.

Frigga turned her attention back to her son, "My poor boy," carefully, she ran her fingers back through his dark hair, "What have they done to you?"

Slowly, carefully, she straightened him out, washing his wounds to the best of her ability, covering him with a thick blanket, ignoring the tears that dripped off her chin and onto her skilled hands.

_I had hoped you would be spared this, my poor, poor son, at least for a while yet. I know, 'tis a vain hope among a warrior people, but a mother hates to see her son come to harm. I know why it is you went, and it was a brave thing. Rash and ill-advised, but all the same, it was brave. And if you had not done what you did, it is doubtful we would have prevailed as bloodlessly as we have. Why did you lie to us, Loki? What have I done that you couldn't come, even to me, with your grief? I would never have allowed you to go, but you could have been spared this._

_But not_ a new thought countered _the pain of your loss._

_No_ she answered it _not that. There is nothing even a mother can do to spare her child that. She can only offer comfort amid the ruins._

~.~

By the time Eir managed to come down, Loki had woken up. Upon waking, it seemed, he had forgotten his injury because he tried to speak to her, his eyes questioning and disoriented and so tired still. Tears spilled down his cheeks at the sudden pain and he closed his eyes. Frigga stoked his hair. After a moment, he had raised a hand to rub away the streaks and she had lifted hers to blot away the new blood on his chin. He stopped her. She respected his 'no' and had told him what happened, how the battle had gone, and how Thor had brought him to her. He listened, tracing his fingers across the stitching in the fabric. She went to hold his hand, and he let her – as he had all those times when he had been small and sick – and he fell asleep again as she sang to him.

Eir came in after he had been asleep some time. She took one look at the stitches and said – much too loudly, in Frigga's opinion, "You may want to absent yourself, Lady. This will not be especially pretty."

Frigga only held to his hand tighter, "I have seen worse."

Eir shrugged, "The stitches need to come out. Soon as possible, in fact. Would've been better if I had him yesterday, when they were relatively _new_," she grimaced.

"Yesterday?" Frigga glanced at her sleeping boy and her heart bled for him.

Eir touched the side of his jaw with one finger, tipping his head in such a way that she could better see the stitches without actually disturbing them. She nodded, "He's already begun to heal around them, so, yes, I would say it was done at least a day ago," she straightened, "If it's any consolation, Lady, judging from his current state, I would venture to guess that he's been unconscious for the great majority of that time." She turned to one of the girls that followed her, "Get Brekan, this will be a bit harder than I anticipated." She brought her attention briskly back to the Queen, "Unfortunately, due to the nature of the wound, there is nothing I can do to prevent him from feeling this, and there is no way that he will sleep through it. It's probably best if you wake him."

Frigga nodded and began stroking Loki's hand, speaking to him in a much louder voice than she had been as he slept. Slowly, her boy began to stir, and then he blinked at her, green eyes dazed and questioning. But at least this time he did not try to speak.

"Eir's come to help you,"

His eyes went wide and he pushed himself stiffly up to see the room. Brekan had arrived and Eir was cleaning a pair of small, blood-stained shears as she spoke to him, "I'll need you to hold him down, there's no way he will take kindly to what I'm going to do."

Brekan nodded and Frigga wished that they would learn to speak more quietly among themselves as she heard Loki's breath quicken. "Shhh," she soothed, "All will be well,"

Loki hardly spared her a glance, his attention taken entirely by Eir and the shears she held.

Brekan said something then. And Eir nodded, then tucked the cloth she had been using into her belt and moved toward the bed. Her movements were fast and businesslike. Frigga held tightly to Loki's hand.

"Alright, Prince, I-"

But that was when Brekan laid a hand lightly to Loki's shoulder, and Frigga didn't hear the rest of what Eir said. Loki pulled his hand away from her, pressing his back tightly to the headboard. There was a crash of sounds and Eir shouting. Brekan made a grab for him, but by then, with a twist of his hand, Loki was gone.

Eir swore. She took a breath, then turned to the Queen, "When he returns, send for me. I have other wounded to attend to, but it's only going to get worse for him the longer he makes it take."

~.~

Loki stumbled as he came up the stair and leaned heavily against the wall, panting for breath. It had – perhaps – not been the wisest course of action for him to walk back from the place in the forest where he had taken himself. But he needed to save what energy he had for the work that shielded his face. Mother didn't need to see him as he was.

His time in the forest had been…bad. He had landed roughly on the ground, panting through his nose, sick with fear of the shears Eir had held in her hand. He had cursed himself for that, realizing that now, all he had was his knife. He'd drawn it, then knelt down, because if he didn't, he thought he might fall. For a long time, he had just looked at it, lying there in his hand, silver and shining, but he knew what he would have to do with it, and sooner or later it would have to be done. Much better it was done sooner. He hadn't been able to cut it at first, his hand had been shaking so badly.

It hurt.

But that first one had been the easy one, because before it had been cut, he had only had his merciful fantasies of the pain, faint next to the reality. He had screamed, wept, hit the trunks around him or the ground – he had done what he had to do to get the stitches out. His hand had slipped many times, gouging shallow cuts across his cheeks, his chin, his hands. Once, he had vomited, doubling over as all the blood that had slid down his throat came back up. His mouth had been largely impassable at the time, and so most of it had come up out of his nose.

He stopped only when he absolutely had to. Collapsed on the ground like a corpse. But he could never stay like that long enough. There was always another stitch to cut, another bloody cord to pull, dripping red from his lips, more blood oozing down his raw throat and churning in his stomach.

It was done sometime before the sun had reached the horizon. Loki didn't know exactly when. He had removed the last cord and collapsed, largely insensate, on the ground. When he came back to himself what he felt was a good time later, the sun was sitting there, low to the ground beyond the trees. It was dark in the forest. Loki knew that he had come near-to the morning, and he assumed that he had only been here one day – the dark was vaguely surprising, leading him to believe that it had not been dark before. He didn't really remember for sure.

He pulled himself to an upright position on the ground, moaning with the pain of the movement. The knife – which he had forgotten he held – fell out of his hand and onto the ground beside him. It glittered in the dark, dim smears on it where his blood had not been washed off. There was a little blood on his hands. He had thought that there would be more. But no. He remembered. He had swallowed most of it because at first, there had been nowhere to spit it from, and after, he had hurt too much to do it. His mouth felt sticky and tasted sickeningly of it. His stomach churned and he climbed blearily to his feet, stumbling toward a place where he heard water.

He found it in the last light of the forest. There would be light in the city for a few hours yet, or on the plain, but here, where the trees were thick, first dark came early. He brought the water shakily up to his lips, and it hurt to drink, but it tasted sweet, cold and sharp. To sharp, as yet, for him. He had managed to wash his hands, and his knife before he had gotten sick again, all the water and fresh blood had come back up, but after that it made him feel better to drink it. It still hurt his mouth, but things would for a good while, he had thought.

As he splashed the cold water carefully across his face, he had felt a pain he hadn't expected, and brought a light to his hand, flickering it across the water and leaning forward to catch his reflection. It had looked back at him, wretched, white and bloody. He couldn't take himself home looking like this, he would frighten his mother half to death.

It struck him then how badly he wanted his mother, now, and how worried she must have been.

Loki had found the path and started on his way home, twisting together all the threads to weave a face to mask his hurt from his mother in his mind as he went, assuming it as it came to him. There were faster ways, but he had feared that if he didn't find some way to occupy his mind, he would forget himself and wander long into the dark. He didn't let himself stop, but pressed on to get home before true night had fallen.

He had arrived just as the blackness was about to settle on the city like a blanket. He slipped past first the guards, and then the palace people, and now, finally, he stood before the door to his mother's chambers.

Almost unsure, he raised a hand, and knocked.

"Come in," he'd missed that voice. It was pathetic, how much he'd missed it. He forced back the sound that wanted to come up in his throat and almost turned away, disgusted with himself, but she deserved to know where he was.

He went in, closing the door lightly behind him. His head throbbed sickly.

Frigga sat at her table, writing, tall candles burning beside her, as if she expected a long night. "Is there any news?" she asked without looking up.

Loki opened his mouth and then shut it again. _It hurt._ The burning ache was bad enough _without_ aggravating it with speech. He felt the blood rush to his head, and thought he might fall. Glancing around he saw nothing besides the doorframe, so he caught at it with his hand and leaned on it for support.

"Full-?" she glanced up, dropping her pen, "Loki!"

From a place in his mind that suddenly seemed strange and far away, Loki saw her rise from her seat, and come toward him. The slowness seemed strange, but then he felt something rushing all around him and he knew he was falling. He felt the beginning prick of the work of his mask coming undone and he thought briefly to let it go – before it could _really_ hurt him, but it seemed there wasn't time for that. He heard his mother – he thought it was his mother – say something, but her voice sounded peculiar – high and frightened. He didn't feel himself hit the ground.

~.~

Everything was dark. But that was alright, it had been a long time since Loki had been afraid of the dark. Even after his time with the dwarves. Tentatively, he raised a hand and found the wounds healed. That explained why there was no pain. He laughed.

And as he laughed, he looked up, then caught his breath at the array of starts above him. They lit the sky, seeming to sing with the sheer wonder of all their silver beauty. He felt the ground underneath him, now. Firm and solid, though he could see nothing on it rapt as he was to the stars. He felt something settle on his shoulder. It was a hand and he followed it to the arm and that to the face of his visitor. He smiled at his teacher who stood beside him, alive as ever.

"Marvelous, aren't they?" Kvasir asked, voice low and reverent.

Loki nodded. He was afraid that if he spoke, all of it would shatter.

They stood in silence for what could have been hours, when Kvasir turned to him suddenly, a goblet in his hand, "Drink this,"

Loki shook his head, startled by the command and a little disoriented.

"Drink it." And Kvasir caught him by the back of his neck, bringing the cup roughly against his mouth. Loki tasted blood and at first he thought it was his own, but then he knew there was too much of it…it had to be the drink…but it was too sweet for blood. His mouth hurt all over again and he choked. Kvasir was laughing, but it didn't sound like him anymore.

Loki hit the ground hard on his back before he'd even realized that he was falling. He struggled to sit up, the crazed laughter echoing back and forth in his head but he was alone again now, alone in the dark somewhere he couldn't see the stars. The taste of the drink made him sick and he went to spit it out, but a weight from nowhere hit him in the chest, driving all the breath from him and knocking him back against the hard, slick floor. The creature was laughing now, "Hold still, Prince,"

It was happening again.

Loki struggled, but just as it had happened the first time, the dwarves were too strong. There were many of them now, and they held him down.

_Shhh, Loki_. It was a fresh, cool sound and Loki focused all his attention on it, well knowing what was about to come next. _It's just a dream. Wake up._

The voice was sweet and good and so much better than what was coming. His heart beat high and fast and desperate. He tried again to fight, to pull himself away. It was useless. The arms of the dwarves were the strongest things in all the nine realms. He hurt everywhere, and they hadn't even started yet.

_Come back to me, my son. It's only a dream. _A cool hand stroked his and he jerked away from it. His hand was free. He made one last, desperate attempt at freedom, already feeling the sting of the needle in the soft flesh just above his upper lip, and was assaulted by the brightness in the room. He flinched back, closing his eyes again. His hand was pressed protectively over his mouth. He felt the softness of a bed beneath him, but his hand felt no stitches, not even any gaping ragged wounds. There was hardly a disturbance to the skin, just a vague, deep, aching beneath it. Eir must have come while he slept. He remembered now, coming to his mother after he had taken the stitches out. Part of him wondered how long ago that was, but the much larger part wished that he could stop shaking.

"Shhh, it's alright," she was holding his hand, running her thumb gently up and down the back of it, "All will be well,"

He opened his eyes then, and saw her, just sitting on a chair beside the bed as if nothing else in the realms mattered. He remembered how she used to stay with him, when he was small and sick, and an aching part of him longed for her to hold him like she had all those years ago.

"_Amma,_" it was a child's word, and not at all what he had intended to say when he opened his mouth. He shut it again hurriedly before anything else he hadn't meant her to hear could come out.

"My son," she smiled at him in a sad sort of way, like she loved him and knew what he had been through, and more jarringly, _why_ he had put himself through it. "My poor brave, foolish boy," to his horror he realized that he was crying, "Come here," his mother beckoned him and after a bare moment's hesitation, he flung himself up off the bed and against her, burying himself in the soft folds of her gown as he had done when he was small. Finally, his mouth was free enough for him to speak, and all he could do was howl out his grief and pain against her chest. But that was alright, because she understood. She would not mock him for his tears. She would not tell him he was too old for such things. She cradled him in her arms as he wept, softly running her fingers through his hair.

After a while, when he was better able to hear her, she began to speak, to tell him things that he had never known about his teacher. Knowing them, Loki only missed him more, but he was glad to know them, all the same.

It had been a long time that she held him, but she made no move to let him go. He was pathetically grateful for that. His whole body ached and he was so tired, but fear of the dreams made him force his eyes open again every time they drifted shut.

"Shhh," she soothed, "Sleep. I will stay with you, my son."

She was singing, a distant part of him realized, an old song he had not heard from her for the longest time. In the state he was in, it almost made him want to weep. But he was too tired even for that, and he slipped half-unwillingly into a sleep that was free from any dream, save that of his mother's singing.


	10. Chapter 10 - Violation (part I)

_**Okay, quick little note on this next part of the story. **_

_**This next part will last six or seven chapters and has a kinda sexual theme. Nothing explicit. I don't write like that. The way I personally see it, Asgard is fairly old-fashioned. I don't see any of the characters as being sexually active, especially not at this point in my story. But that's really up to reader's discretion, I guess. You can imagine whatever you want. **_

_**I have depicted Thor (later on especially) as being fairly skittish of **_**those**_** kinds of jokes and comments, while Loki is anything but. I would venture a guess that Thor would do a lot better in a real relationship though. I think Loki just likes to tease him and knows just how to get under his skin.**_

_**But anyways, I would say that this story takes place a good number of years after 'Wager', but a **_**LONG**_** time before 'Thor'. I imagine them as being as close to adults as they come off as at the beginning of the movie.**_

_**~.~**_

_**On an off note, expect updates a little more often. I want to finish this thing before the movie comes out and I've got a ways to go, and one month to do it in.**_

**~.~**

"Mother, must we _really_ do this again?" the tall man asked, as the older woman fixed the folds of his scarlet cape where it hung over his shoulders.

"Thor," she cupped his handsome face in both her hands, marveling how she now had to look up into the face of her son, "You know how much this means to the stability of the Realm."

He sighed, gripping the handle of his hammer, Mjolnir.

_He might look a man_, she thought fondly, _but he still is my headstrong boy._

"Who knows," she smiled benignly up into his face, "Perhaps you might find the Princess to your liking."

Thor looked to her, eyes wide with something like horror. His brows darted together, "You jest."

"Well, you know," she brushed at her skirt, hiding a smile, "if such a match were to be made, how it could simplify things for your father,"

Thor made no answer, and as she looked up, she found his eyes locked on her like he couldn't believe the words had come from her mouth. She couldn't help but laugh.

Thor laughed too, albeit a touch uneasily. He squared his shoulders, "Well, now I know where Loki got it from."

"Got what from?" Loki sauntered into the room, buckling the golden vambrace onto his wrist as he came.

"Your appalling sense of humor." Thor grumbled.

"Oh?" his brows went up, curiosity and amusement writ large on his face.

"She thinks to marry me off to the Princess,"

"The Princess Skadi?" Loki asked, brows rising a hair further, "Leader of the Thrymheimer war-host in her father's absence?"

Thor nodded, giving his younger brother a look that showed how clearly he expected Loki to agree with him.

"It would make a good match, in my opinion."

Thor gave a despairing moan, and Frigga laughed.

~.~

Loki hated these things. All the pomp and ceremony. All the people. He thought the intense dislike might be something he would grow out of. It appeared he would not. Unfortunately.

They had gone through the initial ceremony without a hitch, Thor waving Mjolnir so the people would cheer, Father speaking to them in his low, solemn tones, and Mother standing beside him, calm and silent and radiantly beautiful.

Thor had gotten over the joke about Mother's plan to marry him off to Skadi, it seemed. Too bad, it had been funny while it lasted. Loki was a bit surprised at his brother's revulsion with the suggestion, from the description _he'd _received, it seemed that the Thrymheimer princess had much in common with the Lady Sif and Thor seemed fond enough of _her_.

They were at the feast now, soon it would be time and the serving-man would call them to their seats. Across the crowd, he caught a glimpse of crimson – Thor's cape, and he made for it. He caught up to him just as his elder brother was accepting a goblet from a blushing serving girl who giggled as he smiled at her. "Ah, Loki," he took a drink, "I wondered where you'd gotten to. Come on, the others are this way,"

Having nothing better to do, Loki followed him. He felt jittery. He really hated these things.

"- and so I threw –" Volstagg was miming the actions as he related them, much to Sif and Fandral's amusement, "the," he gestured to his empty fist, "the drumstick I was holding – and let it fly. And not only," he raised a finger to gain the attention of his laughing audience, "did it hit him straight in the gob, but it threw him backwards – off the bench – and into the opposite wall!"

Thor chuckled, then leaned closer to his friend, whispering in what he had to hope was a subtle manner – and failing at that with all his usual grace – "Has there yet been sight of the princess?"

Loki didn't even try to hide the grin. Thor was a better actor than he'd given him credit for.

Volstagg turned, brow furrowed, "Princess Skadi? No."

"We're not still worried about that?" Fandril asked, "Put your mind to rest, my friend, the Thrymheimer warrior Queen-to-be is far from here. A hunting trip, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Sif murmured, suppressing a smile.

"Good." Thor raised his glass.

"Now why," Fandral came beside him and laid an arm across his shoulders, "why the sudden interest? Up until this morning we heard nothing, but then all day today it's been nothing but, 'Where is she?', 'Have you seen her?', 'Are you sure she couldn't have slipped in?'"

"He fancies her," Sif's mouth quirked up at one side – she was clearly trying very hard not to laugh.

"I do not!" Thor spun toward her, shaking Fandril's arm off as he went, "Loki said the same thing and it's not true."

Loki laughed from where he had wandered a few paces away. They all turned, following Thor's gesture, to him. He smiled easily, "And he's taking the accusation so well." Thor glared at him and he grinned impishly back, but he had something else to turn his attention to and so let the conversation drop.

He had seen Freja – Vanir beauty who lived in Asgard and had taught him all she knew of magic – speaking with Thrym on the other side of the room before Thor had brought him back to the conversation, and now he sought to find them again.

There! He had them. It seemed the conversation was taking a turn for the worse. Freja was laughing, but Loki recognized the way she smiled – strained, untrue, a show for appearances sake. Thrym moved all together too close to her, hands going out to pin her to the wall behind her.

Loki felt his body loosen the way it did when he was stalking a quarry. He knew he was glaring at the man and schooled his face to stillness, looking away. He knew the kind of stories that would be spread if he came on like that, and neither he nor Freja needed the attention. Especially not with her husband having recently disappeared. In fact, Loki was a bit surprised that she had chosen to come at all.

Mother had asked him not to indulge in his abilities during the feast, so he stilled the hand that had begun moving of its own and began once again to work his way through and around the milling crowd. He slipped around a pillar beside where Thrym and Freja were standing, mimicking the kind of sudden appearance he would have had had he used magic.

"Ah, Lord Thrym,"

The man looked up over his shoulder, face flushed and eyes slightly out of focus.

Loki suppressed his disgust – he'd seen animals in heat with more grace – and continued in the same pleasant voice, "I have been looking for you,"

Slowly, the man straightened, "And why might that be?"

Freja took her chance, "I'm sorry, I'm needed in the kitchens," and slipped away past Loki.

He stepped behind her, blocking her retreating figure from Thrym's open stare, "I was wondering if we might speak on the condition of your horses. It has long been the talk of Asgard that no horses rival those bred by Thrym," he let himself slip into the eager, curious act that had won him so much information as a child. He was a little too old now to pull it off convincingly, but in Thrym's state, he thought it appropriate, "How do you do it?"

Thrym chuckled, throwing a heavy arm across Loki's shoulders in the overly-close way common to his people, "Ye see, lad," he glanced pointedly in the direction Freja had vanished to, "it's all in the mares." He winked, then threw his head back and laughed.

_I suppose I should have made no mention of 'breeding' then. _Loki's mouth twisted wryly – in a way Thrym could interpret however he chose.

The man slapped him roughly on the back, throwing him forward in a way he only exaggerated a little, "Don't fret now, lad, you'll get the hang of it in time."

~.~

"Where did you disappear to?" Thor asked.

Loki grimaced as he took his seat to Thor's right, "I was needed elsewhere." He glanced up in time to see Thrym find a place among his host, laughing and watching whatever hapless maid that might come near him until she got so nervous under the scrutiny that she fled. And all this _before_ he had some drink in him.

"Needed elsewhere?" Thor asked, incredulously, "Where else could you be needed than by my side?"

Loki prickled (_but he didn't mean it like that_) and brought a smile to his lips, "I'd rather not talk about it in present company, if you don't mind."

Fandral perked up from the other side of the table, "It was serious, then?" he grinned like he was trying hard not to laugh, "Who was lucky enough?"

"What?" Volstagg came beside his friend, "Who was lucky enough for what?"

"Why," Fandral gestured loosely in Loki's direction, "lucky enough to gain the attention of our esteemed prince."

_Why the sudden interest now? _Loki wondered sourly, _he's given _plenty _of attention – _He cut off the train of thought, finding its pursuit pointless. "It wasn't quite like that."

"Do you mean to say that _she_ was pursuing _you_?" Fandral laughed teasingly, "Goodness Silver-tongue, I didn't know you had admirers,"

Loki smiled thinly, and let that stand for answer, focusing his attention somewhere else.

Beside Fandral, Volstagg exclaimed loudly, little red snakes slithering from beneath a large piece of meat he had taken. Fandral scrambled back, and as Volstagg waved an arm, reaching for a sword he didn't carry at meals, he knocked a passing man-servant from his feet.

"Volstagg," Loki sighed, as if he hadn't conjured the whole thing, and everyone there didn't know it, "have you never thought to watch what it is that you put on your plate?"

The chaos settled, and at first Volstagg gave no response, but then the good-natured warrior began to laugh, and the laughter spread to all in their section of table. Bringing a grin to his face, Loki waved a hand to dismiss the illusion.

Thor raised his goblet in a mock toast to the jest, then clapped a hand roughly to Loki's shoulders, "Your tricks never fail to surprise, do they, Brother?"

"They haven't yet."

Fandral watched the fallen man servant vanish with his now-empty tray through the kitchen doors, "What _would _they do without you for entertainment?"

"Well for one thing," Volstagg said, settling himself back in his place, "They'd be free to digest their dinners in peace."

"You and your stomach," Sif commented dryly as she seated herself beside her friends, Hogun behind her, "What's happened now?"

Loki caught Thrym's eyes watching her as she moved. The man grinned approvingly, raised his goblet and winked.

Loki really hated these things.

~.~

"Loki."

He felt himself pulled from the dream, but with its removal he also felt the pain from his head returning. He hoped that if he feigned sleep long enough, his tormentor would leave him and sleep return.

"Brother, wake up – damn you – you sleep like the dead."

If his annoyance at being woken hadn't been so great, Loki might have laughed. But by then, it seemed, Thor had lost his patience. He took Loki roughly by the shoulders and gave him a jarring shake.

"What is wrong with you?" Loki hissed, giving up all pretense of sleep. Last night had seen the closing – finally – of the visit to the city by the Thrymhimer and their departure to their home far toward the outskirts of the realm. Three days of feasting had been more than enough. And Thor's shaking had done nothing to relieve his headache.

"I need your help, Loki, I can't find it." There was a desperate edge to Thor's voice that Loki hadn't heard in some time. He was hardly in a mood to answer to it after his shaking. The room was still largely in darkness.

"Is it even morning yet?" he asked.

"Cease your mocking, Brother," Thor said menacingly, dragging Loki up by the front of his nightshirt, "I have no tolerance for it this morn. Where is it?"

"I haven't the faintest, but perhaps if you could cease you blithering on about _it _and say something _actually_ of use, I _might _be able to help you."

With an angry, yet sufficiently chastised sigh, Thor released him and strode to the empty window.

Loki straightened himself out, grimacing as the throbbing started to lessen. Thor was agitated, agitated enough that a strange sort of electric taste colored the air in the room and made it hard to breathe. He was fiddling with something he had found on the windowsill, but then dropped it, his hand clumsy with nerves. He went to pick whatever it was up and hit his head against the wall.

Loki chuckled, "So, what happened?" Thor mumbled something indistinct and Loki rolled his eyes, "What?"

"I lost it." Thor cast a glance over his shoulder.

Loki closed his eyes, biting down his temper, "Lost what, Thor?"

"Mjolnir!" Thor exclaimed, "I put it beside my bed last night after the ceremony, and this morning, when I reached for it, it was gone!"

For a moment, Loki said nothing. It shouldn't have come as so much of a shock, he'd been sure from the moment Thor received the thing that _some_thing terrible would happen. He just hadn't thought it would be anything as bad as this.

Thor moaned, "Don't look at me like that, Loki," he ran a hand hopelessly through his blonde mane, "I thought of all people that you would be the one most likely to have a solution,"

Loki blinked and gave himself a shake, breaking the stupor that had momentarily held him. He glared at his brother, a strange aching, like he had failed some test (_absurd_) nagging at him. He ignored it, "I don't just _have_ them, Thor. They take meticulous planning." He shoved the blanket off him and threw his legs off the bed.

Thor brightened instantly, "So you'll help me, then?"

Loki glanced at him sideways, (_of course I will. I couldn't stand watching you go alone_) tugging his shirt over his head, "Idiot." He slipped into his pants and slung a belt about his waist, "Have you _any_ idea what that hammer could do in the wrong hands?"

"I know," Thor hung his head, the picture of shame. Loki snorted (_he should be_).

"Have you any idea who could have taken it?"

"Well," Thor shrugged sheepishly, "At first I thought it must be you,"

Loki stopped, looking him full in the face, completely blank, "And why would I do that?"

"I don't know," Thor shrugged again, then suggested, "jealous?"

Loki snorted, spinning back into motion, thrusting a knife into the sheath at his belt, "You wish."

(_But you know you _did_ want it. You want to know what it would be like to wield that kind of power_) He shook his head again, to clear it (_it was never mine to wield. I have my own power_) It was a tired comeback. It was true he had thought to take the hammer, many times. More to hide than use, to watch Thor panic as he searched, but he had never done it (_because you were afraid_). The thought was useless and Loki put it out of his head.

"Did anyone express interest in it during the feast?"

"Well yes, many did. It is a marvelous weapon."

"And of course one you must show off at every available opportunity. Has it never occurred to you that someone might grow jealous? Did anyone express more than the usual fawning excitement?"

Thor frowned, "None that come to mind. Thrym _did _ask to hold it, he seemed quite inebriated at the time, so I paid it no mind. But it seems too obvious, Loki, it must be someone else."

Loki raised an eyebrow, remarking dryly as he turned toward the door, "Never underestimate stupidity."

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to ask Heimdall if he has seen anything out of the ordinary this past night," he strode quickly out the door and into the dim hallway, not pausing to see if Thor followed, "Assuming he's even _awake _at this forsaken hour."

~.~

To be continued

~.~


	11. Chapter 11 - Violation (part II)

Continued

~.~

As if getting shaken out of bed with a splitting headache wasn't bad enough. It seemed the entirety of the nine realms meant to make his life more difficult this morning. Curse Heimdall and his riddles. Why not just say to 'figure it out for yourself' and be done with it?

Well, _hopefully_, this would work. And _hopefully_, Freja wouldn't mind too terribly greatly. She _did _say that these specific relics were to be used only in times of great distress. Never did she so much as imply they were not to be used at all. This qualified as a time of great distress, Loki thought. At least as far as Thor was concerned it was. He was pacing and nervous and nagged at Loki whenever he paused to think a moment in a way that drove him to wit's end.

This would just have to do. There was nothing for it.

"Are you sure this is a wise idea?"

Loki rolled his eyes, turning from the door they'd finally come to at the end of the passage and looked at Thor, "Be honest now, are you going to still yourself long enough for me to come up with a better one?"

"I can't be still!" Thor exclaimed, "Not until I have Mjolnir again in my hand!"

Loki smirked, "That's what I thought. Quiet now," he pushed the door open, then turned at another thought, "And don't touch anything."

A thick, heady scent washed over them as the door opened out into Freja's lush garden. She had grown home-sick, all that time ago, when she was new-come to Asgard, and the AllFather had granted that a garden be built for her, filled with plants from her home realm, where she could go whenever she saw fit. Loki had trained here often when he was very young, and still – luckily – he knew the paths well.

Behind him, he heard Thor gag, "This is where you did your training, Brother?"

Passing a magenta bloom larger than the silver trays they used for boar at the feasts, Loki looked at it appreciatively, "Yes."

"No wonder you behave so oddly. The smell could turn anyone's head."

Loki decided it was best not to comment on that. Thor was probably right.

The path they were on, should lead them to the little hedge with the silver blooms whose names he could never remember. Above his head a bird trilled. They would be forced to follow the hedge for a ways, because it blocked the path, and a time after that, they would come back to the wall. Then there was a short-cut across the brook from which the flowers obtained their water and they would be at the wall were the blue dragons-vine grew. Once they got there, he would just have to find the passage, hidden behind the vines. He wasn't supposed to know that it was there. Loki grinned at the path in front of him. There were a good many things he wasn't supposed to know.

It didn't take half as long as he had thought it might, the door being much less well-hidden than he had remembered it. But then again, the last time he had been in this garden he had been barely more than a child. Thor was still coiled with impatience, which did not make anything easier. It was no more than a quarter of an hour after they had first set foot into the garden that they found themselves before the dark archway – door found, lock undone, guarding spells circumvented – leading into one of the many tunnels below the palace – but the way Thor complained, it might have been a day. At this point, Loki was doing his best just to drown it out. Not only did he have to locate two very powerful magical relics he had not seen in – well, quite some time – but he had to manage to operate them successfully with no time for preparation, and no room for error. He was tempted to transport himself deep into the tunnels and leave Thor and his ranting here, but the Norns only knew what the oaf would do left by himself in Freja's garden. And Loki didn't want to be responsible to her wrath. There had been few times he had really angered his magic-teacher. They were not times he remembered fondly.

"Come on," Loki lit a light in his palm and started down the dark stairs.

~.~

"Here, hold this."

The light flickered at the end of Loki's fingertips, and Thor wasn't at all sure that it was safe to touch. Magic was never something he'd be overly comfortable with. Loki gestured impatiently, never turning from the open trunk he was pawing through with his free hand. Tentatively, Thor scooped up the little light. He felt nothing. When he closed his eyes, he nearly convinced himself that there was nothing in his hand. But when he opened them again, there it was, pulsing and glowing like a flower lit ablaze.

"Bring it here, nitwit, I can't see anything."

"How does all of this playing about help me find Mjolnir?"

"It doesn't." Loki straightened, lips tight, tucking something long and made – if Thor was seeing it right in the dark – entirely of feathers, under his arm, "It helps _me_ to find it, and then bring you word."

"What, exactly, is your plan?"

Loki held out his hand and Thor offered him the light, "No, the other." He remembered the necklace they'd found and dropped it into Loki's open palm, "I'm going to turn myself into a falcon and fly out after Thrym to make certain that he is not the culprit. Then, when I'm sure of that, I'll return to you, here, and we will decide what to do further."

Thor started to laugh, sure that his brother had to be joking.

Loki though, paid him no mind whatever and swung the feathered – yes, it had to be feathered – cloak about him, fastened the cunning gold clasp at the throat and tugged the hood up over his head.

"A fine sight you'll be," Thor chuckled, "sailing across the city. Would you like me to throw you?"

Loki smiled slyly, "Oh, they shan't see me."

"An invisibility spell, first, then?"

His brother's grin widened, "Something better," he clasped the long gold chain about his neck. There was a movement, sharp, and too quick for Thor to follow, and a bright flash. When Thor opened his eyes, a sleek brown falcon stood before him, where Loki had just been and before he could speak, the falcon cocked its head at him – (_do falcons laugh?_) – spread its wings, burst from the ground and swooped out through the open door.

"Loki!" Thor bellowed, running after him, but it was too late. The bird was gone. He swore under his breath and paced back into the dark room. Loki had told him that they would meet here, so here he must stay. However long it took. And what was he to do with the blasted light anyway? He was still holding it in his hand, but it was magic and he didn't know what it might do if he put it down. He looked at it suspiciously out of the corner of his eye, then turned his full attention toward it. When he looked at it closely, he could see a swirling kind of pattern to the strands of light that made it up, almost like the individual fibers that make up the petal of the most delicate flowers. And Loki managed to create it with a careless twist of his hand. It was most beautiful…

"What do you here?"

Thor jumped to his feet.

~.~

Laughter is an unknown thing to the animal kind, whether naturally born or not, but even as he was, Loki's enjoyment of the situation was intense as he soared out and up and up and up over the city of Asgard. He had never flown before, but in the new form, the action was second-nature. Maybe first – now that he thought on it – what else did a falcon do than fly, and hunt? And he had a quarry now. In his falcon's mind, he was content.

The wind was warm beneath him, even at this great height. Warm and strong and beautiful, like the earth beneath the feet of a running stallion. All was right and good and pure in a way that sat strangely – though not _quite_ unpleasantly – on him. It was a foreign thing. In his old form, he had never felt quite right – always lacking, always strange, but here - ! But no. That was the trap, the lure of the relics. They wanted to be used and they would try whatever tricks they could to ensnare the wearer forever in their mesh.

Besides, Mother would be worried sick if he didn't show up _sometime_. By now she was used to his long absences, and rarely pressed after where he had gone, but if he were to disappear for any true length of time, she was sure to grow anxious.

Best to keep that in mind as he flew, the better to hold to his true self.

Asgard was a small thing now, beneath him. Small enough to be carried in a child's hands. The joy returned again, fierce and shining, but he gave himself no time to rest in it. He turned his eye to the earth far, far below him – and no more than half a day's ride from the city walls, he spied a group of creatures. Men and horses. Thrym and his men, his falcon's eyes told him. And Loki plunged toward the earth.

~.~

Startled, and unthinking, Thor rose and cast the light – it being the only thing on hand – toward the creatures that had entered the room. _Three of them_, some unthinking battle sense informed him, and, amazed, he watched as the light split in three and dove toward the intruders.

Freja waved a hand in a sharp movement before her, dispelling the beam, but her cats were not so lucky, reeling back with sharp hisses and growls at the sudden assault and their immediate lack of sight.

Thor's astonishment at his own action made him slow and it gave the woman a distinct advantage which she took. Before Thor could adjust, he found Freja had closed the distance between them. His back was already to a wall. She snatched the wrist of the hand he'd thrown from and pressed it roughly against the wall by his head, flicking her wrist and binding his other wrist to the wall with some type of magic.

"Such a trick I might expect coming from your brother, Prince. But not from you." Her voice was soft and non-threatening, unlike the low growls of her cats that stalked up behind her, shoulders high as Thor's hip. The creatures were native to Vanaheim, and obeyed only their mistress. "Where did you get the weir-light, and what do you here in my keep?"

Her hold on him was not tight, save for the wrist she held by magic, and he could easily force past her - the cats too, if it came to it – he wouldn't be bested by a mere _cat_! But it was beneath his honor to battle a lady – Sif decidedly did _not_ count – for whatever reason – and Freja was a friend, so he saw no harm in telling her.

"I came to find Mjolnir."

Freja's slender brows darted together, "What?"

"You doubt my words?"

"No," shaking her head she waved back the cats and freed him, "I spelled you for truth,"

"You _what?!_"  
"You mean to tell me that you have lost Mjolnir?"

"She was stolen." Thor said, "And did you teach Loki to do that? He –"

"By whom?" Freja interrupted, violet eyes piercing. Thor was fairly sure that she could extract the truth even without some kind of spell.

"We thought it must be Thrym, but we had no proof, so Loki went to find –"

"How?"

Thor wondered distractedly if Loki had learned his infuriating habit of interrupting when he was in any way excited from her. He thought it probable. "He took a necklace from that room over there," he pointed to a room beyond the doorway, but Freja made no move to follow the gesture, waiting expectantly, "and a feather-cloak from the – the chest. He turned himself into a falcon, Lady, I saw him do it."

Freja didn't seem to be listening. She paced back and forth, her cats watching her with their re-gained sight from where they sat warily by the doorway. "He gave you the light and told you to stay here?" she asked at length.

"Yes."

She gave a breath of a laugh, "Of course he did. And yet he charmed it to you. I didn't know he'd managed that."

"Managed what?" Thor was thoroughly mystified. Of course he'd had to involve Loki and things had gotten complicated. He couldn't have just taken a band and ridden out after the thieving wretch and bypassed this whole endeavor.

Freja laughed then, "It wasn't a pure light, Loki gave you, but a weir-light, meant to ensnare the one who holds it into a kind of stupor. Only a magic user can break it, though any might hold it. It should have disappeared when you threw it, or have held your attention until well after I had entered."

"He tricked me?!"

Her lips quirked up at one corner and she opened her mouth to speak but instead turned in some alarm at a sudden sound.

"To hold you here only until my return," came Loki's ragged answer.

~.~

Thrym and his host had stopped to rest the horses, and were sitting sprawled across the grass, Thrym himself a little apart from the others.

Loki alighted next to him on a rock, and waited.

For the longest time, the man didn't seem to see him, but sat, humming as he drank from a large jug – seeming very well pleased with himself indeed.

Finally, he began to speak, "Well yer a fine lookin' bird, ain't ye? What have _you_ managed this fine morning? Nothing more, I e'cpect, than catch a few ground crawlers, aye? While I," he thumped his chest, "I've won me a fine Queen."

Loki blinked at him once, then cocked his head to one side. _That was fast._

"Ye want to know how?" Thrym laughed, "Very cleverly - old Thrym'll tell you that! One of me men took somethin' - mm? somethin' very special to those high and mighty city people there," he laughed again, "they'll only be getting' it back in trade for her. Tha' I swear."

Loki tipped his head again, "Can they not tempt you with their gold?"

Thrym turned to him, eyebrows raised, but otherwise seeming unsurprised. "Ah, so, ye _can_ talk. Either that," he chortled, raising the jug, "or this's stronger than I'd thought,"

_Assuming you _can _think._ Loki thought dryly as Thrym drank.

The man lowered his jug, "No. Not interested in gold."

"Is there nothing else they can tempt you with?"

"It is only tha Lady, I desire."

"What if your deed should birth war?"

Thrym shrugged, "After the feast they gave me? I think they'd rather leave off."

_Wiser than you seem. Perhaps. _A sudden though occurred to him, a memory of something that had happened only a few minutes before.

"Are ye a messenger of the Golden Ones?"

Loki felt his feathers ruffle in an irritated way at the distraction and forced them flat, "Yes. I'm one of the AllFather's ravens."

"Ha." Thrym said flatly, "ye're a funny one. Will ye take them my message? Raven of Odin?"

Loki looked at him coyly over his feathered shoulder, "What message?"

"Tha Lord Thrym has the hammer, Mjoln'r, and he'll trade it only for the hand of Freja."

"Ah," Loki said, "That message. Yes. Good speed to you, _Lord _Thrym."

~.~

"To hold you here only until my return," Loki staggered a little, and put a hand out, steadying himself against the wall. He gave an unsteady laugh, undoing the clasp of the chain he'd taken.

"What happened?"

"What have you done?" Freja asked.

"Reconnaissance." He raised his eyes – seeming very green in the strange light – to Thor's, answering Thor's unspoken question with a curt, "Yes."

He was still out of breath, "You're hurt?"

"No," Loki shook his head, "The charms are harder," he laughed in the puzzling breathless way he had, "harder to break than I had expected." He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, but then began breathing easier.

"Thrym has stolen the hammer?" Freja asked.

"You told her then?" Loki sounded vaguely annoyed. And more himself, which laid Thor's worry well to rest. "You tricked me!"

"I found the _object_ you were foolish enough to allow that buffoon to steal."

Freja cut in, "What does he want for it?"

"And how far has he gotten? It can't take us long to overtake them. You were gone only a short time –"

"Longer than you think, Brother," Loki smiled in a way that was nearly apologetic, "The light distorted your sense of time, I'm afraid." He straightened, removing the feathered cloak from his shoulders with a flourish and placing it in Freja's outstretched hand.

"The gem," she prompted, "And you never answered my question."

Loki's fingers tightened around the gem, "You will not like the answer," his eyes lit up. Thor's heartbeat quickened. He remembered that look from the days when he and Loki were still stealing cookies from the kitchen and hiding from their nursemaids. It meant adventure. And no little bit of amusement. "But I think I have a plan."

~.~

_Jaw clenched in frustration, Thor turned on his heel and stormed down the Bifrost back toward the city. Loki moved to follow, but was stopped by the guard's rumbling voice._

"_Beware."_

_Loki stopped, brows drawn together. _

_Heimdall never turned his head or took his gaze from his watch._

"_Beware the eye. It often sees only what it is that it wishes to see."_

_Loki didn't move, but stood, puzzling at what he knew the guard was telling him, hoping – though he knew it was a vain thing to hope after – that the man might explain further._

_He didn't._

_And after a few moments, Loki followed his brother._

_Behind the retreating princes, his back still to the Golden City, Heimdall smiled. _

~.~

To be continued

~.~


	12. Chapter 12 - Violation (part III)

_"Loki, none have managed such a thing before, to my knowledge. It takes a shifter of great skill, and you have only just begun."_

"_Then would _you_ like to go and satisfy Thrym's demands? I see no other way, Freja, I have to try it. And besides, I'm not _actually_ shifting, it's all illusion."_

"_But a powerful one, all the same."_

_Freja pursed her lips, eyeing him up and down._

_It seemed an eternity before she spoke again._

"_Fine. But you must try it here first."_

"_Alright."_

"_NOW."_

_Loki tried the gem, and Freja's eyes went wide._

_Loki grinned, voice strange and hardly his own, "I take it that I have your permission, then?"_

"_Take it off." She said, "And use it only when you must. Never on the journey. You might think that you can hide it from your Brother, but I saw how you struggled to drop the illusion just now. The longer you hold to a form, the tighter it holds to you."_

"_I will remember."_

"_See that you do."_

~.~

"We'll arrive sometime tomorrow, I daresay."

Thor grunted noncommittally from the other side of the fire, and Loki couldn't help the wicked-feeling grin that split his face.

He continued, keeping his tone fiercely level, "Which would be best, as that is when they are expecting their bride-to-be."

"This has got to be one of your more daft schemes, Brother." Thor muttered.

Loki allowed himself a chuckle, "How hard can it be? All _you_ have to do is keep your mouth shut and look pretty."

From across the fire, Thor glared at him. One of the cats raised its head and peered out into the darkness, giving a low growl deep from its chest. "Will you shut her up?" Thor sulked, "Her ceaseless growling is getting on my nerves."

Loki scowled at him reproachfully, but said nothing, stroking the large animal between her ears in the way she liked until she became calm and laid her head back down in his lap.

A week of traveling together had done wonders to renew his relationships with the animals. Thor's experience had not been so …pleasant.

Across the fire, Loki heard Thor give a heavy sigh, "I'm going to sleep."

"Pleasant dreams, Brother," Loki grinned, "tomorrow starts you on your new life,"

Thor groaned, "Go to sleep."

~.~

"_You're convinced that this is the only way?" Thor asked again._

"_I am." Freja answered solemnly._

_Thor gave a deep sigh, "Fine. To retrieve Mjolnir, and to preserve your honor, Lady, I will do it. Though it is disgraceful."_

"_Since when has that stopped you before?" Loki laughed, "I remember plenty of times when –"_

"_That was different."_

"_In what way?"_

"_You weren't trying to make me _wear a dress!_"_

"_Oh come now," Loki chuckled, "No one will know who you are by the time Freja and I are through with you."_

_Thor's eyes went wide, "You mean I'm going to have to wear the blasted thing the entire journey?"_

"_Of course not," Freja laughed, eyes sparkling with a light that had been absent the past few months._

_Thor hung his head, "Do what you must." He said, "But do it quickly, before I change my mind."_

~.~

It was cold. Cold and dark. Most mornings, Loki slept long after Thor had woken. Not these mornings. Loki hardly slept when they traveled. He didn't feel that he needed it.

He hated the cold. There was something about it that had always seemed threatening to him. Maybe it was a residual fear of freezing to death that had come to him when he was a child. He remembered one time, coming to Midgard with his father and Thor…it had been his first time off the realm…he remembered how the dream had crept up on him as he slept. He shuddered and pulled his cloak more tightly around him. The sun was just beginning to come up, turning the very edges of the horizon a paler blue color.

The air was loosing its murderous bite, giving way to the pure fierce cold of early morning. Loki wouldn't mind it, soon as he thought it wasn't going to kill him. Sunrise cold was sharp, but playful. The last cold of the night was murderous, unready to let go and dug in with sharp claws.

But soon it would pass.

~.~

"_AllFather,"_

"_Yes, Loki? What is it?"_

"_I must speak with you."_

~.~

"Thor,"

Thor felt something tugging at his shoulder. It was strange, not unpleasant, but peculiar all the same. He wondered what it was doing. It didn't really matter, in the end, he was just faintly curious…

"Thor, get up."

Thor opened his eyes, "Hnnn?"

"No wonder you wake up before any sane creature at home. You're so charming upon waking."

Thor laughed, rubbing his eyes to clear them, "You should see yourselfsome mornings. It wasn't a week ago I thought you were going to kill me."

"When was that?"

Loki's tone had changed, he wasn't mocking now, too quiet for that, but he was rummaging through something in the cart, Thor assumed it was distraction.

"Don't you remember? You had me by the throat before I could rightly wake you."

"Oh. Yes. I remember." Loki sounded dismissive. One of the cats – Thor could never tell them apart – nudged at his leg as he searched and Loki batted it away with an annoyed – and distinctly feline – snarl.

The cat slinked a few paces away and lay down, still watching his brother.

"They certainly seem to have taken a shine to you," Thor commented after a moment.

"What?" Loki looked over at the cat, "Yes, I suppose the have," and went back to his rummaging.

Finally, Thor asked, "What are you looking for?"

Loki grinned at him, "You're ensemble,"

Thor groaned, "Isn't it too early?"

Loki quirked an eyebrow, "Do you want to be spotted by a Thrymheimer welcoming party, only half 'transformed'?"

Thor gave up, "No."

"Well then get over here," Loki was practically vibrating with barely-contained amusement, "It's time we begin."

~.~

"_He will accept no other answer?"_

"_None. Only Freja."_

"_And you mean to promise him Freja, and bring him Thor?"_

_Loki gave a cough of a laugh, "Well, yes. I'm hoping Thrym might not see as clearly as you, though, Father."_

"_You are asking that I allow you to go alone to Thrymheim, disguised as court women, to win back Mjolnir by trickery?"_

_Loki swallowed down his amusement with difficulty, "Yes."_

"_You will need a messenger to ride ahead to proclaim 'Freja's' acceptance. I will send Hodur. Go and prepare yourself."_

"_Yes, Father."_

"_And Loki?"_

"_Yes?"_

"_Tell your brother I would speak to him ere he goes."_

~.~

"Strip down."

Thor looked at him, askance.

"Oh for Norns' sakes, I'm not looking!"

Loki bent down into the cart again, laying out the various pieces that Freja had insisted were needful for a Vanir woman, traveling as a bride.

Thor sighed and tugged his clothes off, pulling the loose white gown Loki handed him – without looking up – over his head.

"Are you decent?" Loki smirked.

"No." Thor sulked, "No Prince of Asgard should be brought this low."

"Lament your condition later." Loki said. He straightened, took one look at Thor, and doubled over laughing. "Quite the picture you look!" he chuckled, "I wish you could see yourself!"

Thor felt himself flush, "Let's get this over with."

Loki pulled himself together with marked difficulty, "Yes, my Lady." He dropped a light curtsy and ducked the belt Thor threw at him.

"I can still teach you to mind your tongue," Thor growled, "Gown or no gown."

Loki chuckled, "_'Gown or no gown,'_" he mimicked to himself, smirked, and picked up some awful looking device.

"_What_ is _that_?"

"A corset." Loki grinned, "But I forgot, first we'll have to do this, it's the only way they'll stay on right."

"Do what? What will stay on?"

Loki handed him a wadded up bundle of cloth, "Don't undo it," he said instead of answering – getting an unholy and altogether inappropriate amount of glee out of this, "hold them up and let me tie it in the back."

In a flash Thor realized what he was doing, "Oh Loki," he moaned.

Loki stopped and cocked his head at him, "Now Brother, we both know Thrym to be an uneducated imbecile, but do you really think he will mistake _you_ for _Freja_ without a little…" he waved his hands suggestively, "something extra up front?"

Thor closed his eyes and did as he was told.

Loki ducked back behind him, trying the thing in place, "But he's just going to have to content himself with a more…ah, _demure_, bride, than we are used to seeing, as it is usually the fashion to cover up a little less, but in your…shall we say, _condition_..."

"Will you just get on with it?"

"Hold this."

Loki handed him the corset and slipped behind again.

"What are you doing now?"

"Lacing you up. Trust me, it'll get plenty interesting in a moment."

"Trust you." Thor snorted. He could feel Loki's fingers plucking at the strings down the length of his spine.

"Well, what else were you planning on doing?"

Before Thor could answer, there was a sharp tug and he felt his ribcage collapse, "Loki!"

"Hold still," but rather than make it better, Loki did it again.

"_What_ are you doing?" Thor gasped, "rock climbing?"

Loki laughed, sounding a little breathless himself, "We're nearly there."

He pulled again and Thor caught his breath, "Women actually _wear_ these?"

"Yes," Loki came around in front of him. His eyebrows crept slowly up his forehead in a way that was hard for Thor to interpret. Before Thor could ask – not that he felt prone to asking anything, with his ribs being squeezed as they were into his backbone – Loki shrugged, "though I daresay they're a bit more," he waved him hands in a curving motion down his sides, "appropriately shaped."

"Loki, I can't breathe."

"Oh you'll be fine," he said dismissively, then turned back, holding something scarlet in his arms, "it's time for your bridal gown."

~.~

"_Are you sure you'll be alright?"_

"_You fret too much, Mother."_

_She gave him a reproachful look, "I fret just enough. Few mothers are burdened with such daring sons."_

"_And possibly foolish ones."_

_She laid a hand gently to his cheek, "Possibly _very_ foolish ones."_

_Sighing then, she looked away, "I suppose there's nothing more I can do for it. Be careful, Loki."_

_He planted a gentle kiss to her forehead, "I will."_

_He went to leave then, but paused as she called after him._

"_Loki?"_

"_Yes, Mother?"_

"_Your brother is headstrong and reckless. Do not allow him to begin a war."_

_He laughed, "I'll try."_

~.~

"Loki, what are you doing?"

"You know," Loki muttered, never taking his eyes from his work on Thor's face, "I thought I'd never tire of that question." He leaned back, closing the tiny flask he held with a snap. "It appears I have."

"Are you done with me _yet_?" the paint felt strange and foreign. He didn't like it.

"Nearly."

"And what about yourself?"

Loki gave a short laugh, "I'll be fine."

"They'll be sure to recognize you if you go in like _that_."

"I wasn't planning on it." Loki's answers were getting even shorter and _more_ irritating and _harder_ to understand. If that were possible.

"Then get on with it already!"

Loki gave him a sharp look, but said nothing. He slipped out of his clothes, and into his own light under-gown. "Thor," he grinned in a way that Thor really didn't like, "turn around. You shan't enjoy this next bit."

Knowing better than to doubt it, and really just grateful that Loki had chosen to warn him at all, Thor looked away.

"It's safe now," said a voice that wasn't quite Loki's, "Well, safe as it's going to be, at any rate."

Thor whirled around, and sure enough, it was his brother, but not his brother.

"Would you help me tighten this?" Loki grinned, but it wasn't quite Loki's face wearing the impish look – and it wasn't quite his voice – even the hand that held up the corset to – his - … chest…was different. "Something you like, Sir?" Loki purred.

Thor flushed a burning scarlet and dropped his eyes, "Loki, you're –"

"Half naked, if you don't mind," Loki turned, handing Thor the ends of the laces that – he – presumably wanted tied.

Tentatively, Thor took them and began to pull.

"Harder," Loki said, "You're hardly managing anything at all."

"But you're not… not actually…" he trailed off, tying the knot and stepping away.

The smile that split the face was very definitely Loki's, as – he – said, "It's all an illusion, Brother. _One_ of us had to be convincing." He tugged the emerald gown Freja had leant him over his head and began to do up the clasps, pulling the gem out from the neck to rest on – his – chest, just above the fabric of the gown, "Though it is a markedly good one," he chuckled, "I'll have to keep this one in mind,"

"Oh no you don't," Thor protested, "Freja specifically said only for emergencies and only as long as you really need to so don't you –"

Loki laid a hand on his arm, "I jest, Brother, but it's good to know you care." He gestured toward the cart, "Climb in, Lady Freja," he – she? – curtsied. "Your eager bridegroom awaits."


	13. Chapter 13 - Violation (part IV)

Okay, Quick notes on this one: 1.) Asgardian means 'from the High City of Asgard. Aesir means 'From the Realm Asgard' 2.) As far as I've played it, Thor and Loki are not really important figures in Asgard…yet. They're still largely considered children. And a lot of what happens in the city – as far as the general population outside the city is concerned – is largely a myth, and best left alone.

~.~

"Thor, what are you doing to those animals?"

Thor growled, tugging at the reigns, "They don't like me, for one thing," he yanked at the cords to try and turn the blasted creatures, "And for another I can't move in this infernal costume!"

"Oh please," Loki sighed – in a very good imitation of Sif. Thor looked behind him, peeking out of the corner of his eye at his…brother. The illusion had not slipped at all. It was maintained seamlessly. Loki looked like his own twin sister. It was… disturbing. To say the very least. He – Thor was having the hardest time just thinking about his – brother. He was kneeling on the floor of the cart behind him, emerald green gown pooling around – his – knees, braiding back his hair – which had gotten much longer with his – transformation – as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be doing. Thor wondered how he could braid hair that was really an illusion and where he had learned to do that. It made his head hurt and he decided that it was probably best to not know.

Loki caught the fact that he was looking and grinned, but rather than prodding further as Thor feared he might, merely asked, "What?"

"Where did you learn to do that?"

"What? The braiding?" he wrapped the end of the braid, leaving the lower part of his hair loose like Thor had seen the unmarried Vanir girls do, "It's all part of the play."

"So it's not really there?"

Loki chuckled, "I didn't say that."

Thor rolled his eyes and snapped his attention back to the cats as they took the cart over some imperfection in their path. "Why does she insist on these wretched animals?"

Loki came up behind him, calmly taking the reigns and righting the cats, "They're from her home realm," he – she? – murmured, "I suppose she finds them comforting."

"And why couldn't we use the goats?"

Loki leveled him a dry look, "You are Freja. Freja does not drive a goat cart." Loki's eyes flicked back to him from their path, "And your veil's off center."

"Who cares?" Thor groaned.

"You should," Loki breathed, not taking his eyes from the horizon, he pointed with a jerk of – his – chin, "Look."

And there it was. Long and low to the ground, thatched and squat like a stable, surrounded by endless outbuildings and swarms of men and horses. There was a group of them breaking away from the general mass and coming toward them.

"Thor," Loki said suddenly, low, urgently, "Remember, you're not to speak. Do nothing they would not expect, and follow my lead."

"And don't break out of the dress,"

Loki fixed the veil, keeping one hand to the reins – not that the cats seemed to be giving him any trouble, "Don't break out of the dress."

He wasn't mocking now. That told Thor that he was either worried, or preoccupied. The former – though odd – seemed much more likely in the situation, "Don't fret, Brother,"

"Don't be ridiculous," Loki snapped. "Now be quiet, they'll hear you."

~.~

The man leading the Thrymheimer Welcome-Guard – Rungnir – Thor thought he had called himself – he thought that he could recall his face from the feast – turned to Loki, "Lady Disa," Disa, Thor wondered if that was the name of one of Freja's handmaids, or if Loki had just made it up. Loki had been established as the only speaker right from the beginning, and they had been riding slowly now, for some time, "Why does not your lady speak?" Apparently, Loki had decided that the best course of action was to play on their ignorance of Vanir customs. So far it was working beautifully. "She mayn't speak until after the …item to be returned has been given her. It is the custom for Vanir brides." Then, as if that weren't explanation enough, he went on, almost apologetically, "Because she is given as ransom, she must be silent." He cocked his head a little, "But we don't know what the item is," he looked at Rungnir where he rode beside them from under his – her – dark lashes, "Might you?"

Thor wanted very badly to laugh and chocked it back only just in time. Loki swayed backward with the motion of the cart so it looked like an accident and stepped hard on his foot.

"I might," Rungnir nearly purred, rising directly to Loki's bate.

Thor very nearly laughed again, but Loki's weight pressed down hard, reminding him to keep his silence.

"Might, you tell me," Loki murmured flirtatiously, very quiet "if," he let the 'if' hang for just a moment too long, "there was no one else about?"

Rungnir's eyes slipped past Loki to where Thor was sitting, still and silent, and Thor was glad of the veil that hid his face.

Loki let out a rippling laugh, "Where are my manners?" she – he – stifled her giggles with her hand, "I am sorry, Rungnir," she laid the hand to Rungnir's wrist where it was within her – his – reach, holding the reigns of the horse he rode, "I had forgotten. Your people are not like mine, and such things come to you more slowly."

"Not so much more slowly," Rungnir said, after a moment.

Thor snorted and Loki tripped a little as the cart lurched, bringing his heel into sharp collision with Thor's ankle.

As if nothing had happened, Loki straightened and peered up through his lashes at the rider. Then he looked demurely down at his hands where they held the cats' reigns.

Rungnir cleared his throat, as though the silence chafed him, then said, "'S not so much of a secret though, mostly it's common knowledge at the Keep. Lord Thrym took the Prince Thor's prized weapon. The Asgardian's seem very impatient to have it back," then, almost as a sort of explanation, "None of us expected your lady to come so quickly."

Loki paused, then murmured, "She was…well inclined to come," as if disclosing a secret. He looked back to Thor and smiled fondly, "She met Lord Thrym during the feast, though she told none of us at the time," his voice – though hardly his at the moment – went wistful, "I never would have guessed my lady to be won again with such speed."

"Yes, the bird they sent after us was surprised too."

"The bird?"

Rungnir shrugged, "In the city, some of the birds have found voice. It is said that two of them – ravens both – serve the AllFather, though none have come and spoken to us. We didn't know there were others."

"How strange," Loki murmured, then he giggled, "What did it speak of? Seeds and mice?"

Rungnir chuckled, "It seemed that even the bird was troubled by the weapon's loss."

"What would a bird care to do with a hammer?" Loki laughed again, "It hasn't any hands!"

"I know not," Rungnir said, "Tales are whispered that the hammer is powerful. Tales that it can bring the storm. Ancient tales."

Loki looked wide-eyed and innocent at the man, "Are they true?"

Rungnir scoffed, "It seems not, though from the way the Asgardians are acting, you'd assume it was. It seems a regular hammer to me."

Loki kept the wondering look to his face, "You've touched it?"

Thor felt himself growing hot with impatience and rage that such an incompetent fool could have so much as looked at his hammer. Loki seemed to sense this and gave his foot a light tap as a reminder. Thor pulled his foot deeper beneath his skirts. Loki turned and gave him a piercing look, then turned wondering back to the man riding alongside them. Rungnir was speaking again, shrugging, "It didn't seem special to me," he snorted, "I think that they're impatient for its return on account of the elder prince. He's likely taken the place apart in his fury."

Loki laughed, "I wouldn't be surprised. He was in a mighty rage when we saw him. Well, more when we didn't see him," he chuckled a little, nearly under his breath, "Rumor has it that he is exiled to his chambers, and his mother holds the key."

Rungnir chortled, "'S lucky for us the Prince is less powerful than he'd like to have us think."

Thor glared at Loki's back, his hands curling into fists in his lap.

Loki reached out a hand then, sharply, almost desperately clutching at the man's arm, as though seized with sudden passion. Rungnir seemed just as startled as Thor.

"Oh," Loki – Disa – gasped, "Will you show it to me? It seems so wondrous! I'm sure if only I saw it, that I could tell if the stories were true!"

Carefully, Rungnir pulled his arm away, shifting his hold on the reigns, "Did you never see it while in their court?"

Loki gave a petulant sigh, "I saw it, but it wasn't the same. The Prince was always waving it around," he waved his – her – hand in a mocking imitation, and Rungnir snorted with laughter. Thor felt his blood boiling and wanted very much to demand Loki to mind his tongue, but he knew better and bit his own instead.

As if knowing what Thor was thinking, Loki flicked his eyes coyly over his shoulder at him. Thor saw his foot tap once against the boards of the floor and pulled his own further under him.

"I would show you, Disa," Rungnir said, leaving off the 'Lady' he had kept up to this point with all the easy familiarity that came so quickly to his people, "but I know not where it is."

Loki laughed, disbelieving, "Surely such a great commander as you must know where!"

Rungnir flushed a little, looking down.

Loki cocked his head at him, "You are a great commander, are you not?"

Rungnir's answer was mumbled, but it was clear enough to hear that it was in the negative.

"Oh," Loki looked down at his hands, "I'm sorry, I assumed…" he let the sentence trail into silence. After a moment he glanced shyly back up to the man, "What are your customs for marriage?" he asked, voice considerably subdued, "I'm afraid that I know woefully little of Aesir customs, and they are so different from ours,"

"First there will be a grand feast," Rungnir said, seeming very glad to have changed the subject, "Certain promises will be made, and then the thing is done." He shrugged, "It's very simple, really."

Loki smiled a little, "There's only one problem to it,"

"What's that?"

"My lady cannot speak until the hammer is given her, by the vows she has taken."

"Thrym plans to give over the hammer only after the wedding,"

Loki started, turning on him sharply, "You would have my lady to be a vow-breaker?" then he laughed, equally sudden, "Either that, or I take the vows for her," he giggled again – Thor was grudgingly impressed with the act, if still somewhat stung, "And though my love for her is boundless, there are things I will not do."

"Perhaps an allowance can be made," Rungnir said hesitatingly, "On account of her vow…"

"Would you, Rungnir?" Loki smiled hopefully up at him, "Would you?"

"I'll try," the man said, clearly unsure.

"Good," Loki said contentedly, turning back to the cats, "I wouldn't want to find myself Thrym's bride," he seemed to hear what it was he had said, and hurriedly recovered himself, "No offense to your Lord, Rungnir, I only meant –"

But Rungnir was laughing, "No offense, Disa. Thrym is Lord here in name only," he shrugged, "Everyone knows it, save the old lout himself."

"Oh?" Loki asked, "Then who does rule Thrymheim?"

"His daughter, the Princess Skade," he shrugged again, "but she's off on a hunting trip or some such thing in the mountains to the east with a great majority of our warriors. She'll likely not be back for upwards of another week."

"A pity she'll have to miss her father's wedding,"

Rungnir gave a bark of a laugh, "I don't find myself thinking that she'll mind it overmuch."

~.~

Finally, they had been left alone. He and Loki had been lead through the hall, and the throngs of bustling people, Thor, tripping over his skirts like a drunken Lord, Loki leading him along, hanging on Rungnir's arm, simpering all the while. Thor couldn't see much through the fabric of his veil in the dim hall, and it was just as well. Watching Loki under this particular…guise…was disturbing. Loki – finally – had asked Rungnir if there might be a place where they could be left alone that he might refresh his lady.

"Must you be alone?" Rungnir had asked, in some surprise.

Loki had laughed, "Oh, your customs are strange to me! She mayn't speak, nor may she show her face to any but myself before the exchange is complete."

"Of course," Rungnir had amended, seeming flustered, "I'll do what I can."

And now here they were.

Hardly had the door been shut than Thor pulled the veil from him, casting it on the ground. The wreath that had rested atop it hit the far wall, fell, and bounced several times, rolling across the floor.

Loki watched it impassively from where he stood beside the door. He looked at Thor and raised his eyebrows. The familiar look was strange on the face that wasn't-quite-his and it made Thor's skin crawl. "You done?" he asked dryly.

Thor crossed his arms over his chest, feeling the back of the infernal garments he was forced to wear straining at his shoulder-blades. "You're having a fine old time," he growled, "and still we're no closer to finding my hammer."

"No closer?" Loki crossed his – her – own arms, "are you really so dense as that?"

"We are here and Mjolnir is I know not where and you are traipsing about –"

"I have broken within their system." Loki interrupted, then continued, voice angry and vehement, "I have made that – milksop – admit," he held out one hand and began to count off on his fingers, "that he has no idea where or what your hammer is. I have made him doubt your ability to come yourself. I have gotten from him that Skade is the true leader of the Thrymheimer and that she will be gone for the next week. I made sure none would doubt your silence and the shrouding of your face," he threw his hands up, giving a bitter bark of a laugh, "I even kept you from having to go through with the blasted ordeal. You do understand that he meant to wed you before you'd gotten your hammer back. Yes?" He threw his hands down and turned away, crossing his arms again.

Thor sighed, leaning back against the wall. Now Loki was angry. He was wearing a dress, his brother was convincingly – very convincingly – disguised as a female, he had not got his hammer, and now Loki was angry with him.

"It would have been a hard thing to explain to Mother," he ventured quietly after a moment, sitting up a bit straighter.

Loki snorted, but somehow he seemed less tensed.

An idea occurred to him. Thor bit the inside of his cheek, hard, then asked, "Are you sure he's not just a 'milksop'?"

Loki turned fully around then, confused, "What?"

Thor had to look away lest he laugh and give up the game, he waved his hand, "Rungnir. Are you sure he's…?"

Loki rolled his eyes with impatience, "Am I sure he's what, Thor?"

"Are you sure you're not…I mean – I don't doubt your honor, Brother, but your act was convincing…" he glanced up just in time to see as Loki caught what he was getting at and laughed in spite of himself.

Thor rubbed at the side of his head, deciding to continue further, "Because that would be even harder to explain. 'Yes, Mother, we retrieved Mjolnir. Where's Loki? Um, that might be a harder question…See, there was this soldier.'"

Laughing now, Loki threw the brush from the table that stood beside him.

Thor blocked it good-naturedly, caught the movement of the fabric around him, and leaned back to the wall again, letting off a soft moan.

"What is it now?"

Thor chuckled up at the ceiling in a despairing sort of way, "I had forgotten I was wearing a dress," he heard Loki laughing and raised his hand dramatically, "Mjolnir, see how I love thee? I go to such lengths for you,"

"Ah, the Mighty Thor," Loki grinned, "bested by a dress,"

"It is a wretched thing." Thor sat up, "How do women wear these things?"

Loki shrugged, "Ask Mother,"

"Well I thought you might know," Thor said, "being all…" at a loss for words, Thor waved a hand.

Loki sighed, "It's an illusion, Thor."

"Well then for Norns' sakes, take if off!"

Loki chucked, "Not just yet, Brother. I think it's time Lady Freja joined her wedding feast."

Thor moaned again, "Not yet,"

Loki grinned wickedly, "Would you rather wait for Thrym to come and find you?"

"Alright, alright, I'm coming."

~.~

"Never have I seen a more ravenous bride," Rungnir said, eyes wide with something part-way between horror and awe as he watched Thor eat.

Thor had always been known to eat much at a feast, but Loki was beginning to think that he was doing this on purpose. He noticed the way Thrym – and most of the others at this end of the hall, in fact, were watching with rapt fascination. He wanted to roll his eyes, but instead brought a look of concern to his face, "She's not been eating, these past few days," he said, pitching his voice (which still seemed strange to him, as it was, under the illusion) a bit loud, both to answer Rungnir's near-question, and to explain to everyone watching. "It is the custom for brides-to-be to eat little, but so hot has my Lady's passion burned for you," Thrym looked up from his mug, seeming startled, "that she's eaten nothing at all." Loki touched Thor's arm, pressing down with just too much force – so that all watching would see a gentle caress, but Thor might understand that he was pushing their limits too far.

Loki might have known that Thor would understand no such thing. He was Thor. He was untouchable. Should anything in this daft plan go awry, he'd be fine. Unfortunately, the fool never stopped to think why he made it out fine. He never stopped to think that maybe it wasn't all of his own good fortune and prowess. He never stopped to notice how hard everyone around him worked to protect him from his own stupidity. Loki remembered a mission they had gone on, not a fortnight ago, bringing the Warriors Three and the Lady Sif in tow as they often did these days. He remembered the troll that had sprung up at them from nowhere. He remembered the wound to the shoulder that Sif had received, tying to block a blow meant for Thor's pretty skull. He remembered how Thor hadn't noticed, and how Sif had said nothing. But would he listen if one tried to point it out? No. He was Thor. And whatever he said, was the truth and anyone who might dare to suggest otherwise would suffer his wrath. Idiot.

Thrym was watching Thor, Loki noticed, with a new sort of interest – a hot, fevered kind of look. Thor either didn't notice, or didn't care. Up until this point, Thrym had buried himself in his drink, sparing 'Freja' little notice after the first glance, as if 'she' hadn't lived up to his expectations. This had intensified as 'she' began to gorge herself from his table. I'm sure the poor man begins to fear for his storehouses. Loki didn't quite grin, As well he should.

But now all of that had changed. Loki's mention of 'Freja's' passion, seemed to have lit something in the drunkard's mind, and now he stood, very slowly, very drunkenly, and stumbled toward his 'bride'. He bent down – though in his condition it seemed more of a fall – and went to lift 'Freja's' veil to kiss her. Hurridley Loki shot out his hand and slapped Thrym's.

Thrym looked at him, rage and amazement at the action flickering in his bloodshot eyes.

Loki drew back, as though afraid, toward Rungnir – poor fool – "I," he stammered, "I'm sorry, Lord, but," he took a 'steadying' breath and sat up straighter, making his voice more sure, "but it is against the vows my Lady has taken that she should be seen by you before the exchange."

Thrym grunted, looked to 'Freja' who had, by this time, stopped eating and was holding perfectly – deadly – still.

Oh Norns Thor, don't do something stupid.

Thrym's hand went out again – before Loki could make a move, but dropped the veil with a slurred oath moments later.

Loki stood, hurriedly gathering up his skirts, "Lord Thrym!" he placed himself between Thor, who – astonishingly – had made no move, and the offending drunkard, "Would you take a vow-breaker to wife?"

Thyrm was looking past him at 'Freja' with some alarm, "Why're her eyes so red with anger?"

Loki wanted to hit Thor, but didn't. Instead he laughed, his mind spinning for an excuse and seizing at the first likely contender, "My Lord, it is not from anger! All these nights since she had received the summons my Lady has lain awake – too inflamed with longing to welcome sleep,"

Thrym's face had brightened, "Well then, let's get on wi' it! Bring the 'ammer!"

Behind him, Loki felt Thor tense, he could almost taste the electricity in the air. He laid a hand to Thor's knee. Easy, Brother. Bide your time. Then slipped back around behind him, having no wish to be in any way caught between Thor and the object of his desire.

Behind him, he felt Rungnir lean down to whisper something, but he was too late if his intent was to be heard. A man was entering, bearing the weapon. Every nerve in Loki's body felt alive and tensed. The man lifted the hammer ceremonially. Thor didn't move. A stillness was on him the like of which Loki had never seen before and a vague misgiving he hadn't counted upon was clawing somewhere at the pit of his stomach, but there was no time for that now. The hammer was given to Thrym, who raised it, grinning proudly at his host, and lowered it to Thor's lap.

The hammer had no sooner touched the fabric than Thor had taken it up and – roaring – sprung to his feet, throwing the veil from his head by the force of his movement and bursting the seams of the dress. He brought the hammer up in a sweeping arch that slammed Thrym's head back – no doubt snapping his neck – and ended only when it pointed straight for the sky. Loki didn't move quite fast enough – not that there was time – and next thing he felt was an aching sort of pain in his back and up through his neck, spreading across the back of his head. He felt the burning prick of some unsupported mage-work, and fumbled his hand up for his neck – the gem was gone. Vision still clouded, Loki hurriedly slurred out the words that would end the work before the vengeance of the energy for attempting too taxing a thing could really reach him. The pressure behind his eyes lifted and he began to struggle up. As his eyes cleared, he surveyed the chaos. Thor had summoned lightning into the building and the resulting blast had not only thrown him and all of the others in a wide radius against the far walls, but it appeared that the thatch roof had caught fire.

Pandemonium raged. Those standing were running, screaming. Those who were not, would be soon.

Beside him, there was a shifting in the rubble, and a dusty, coughing figure emerged. It was Rungnir, "Disa," he coughed, "are you alright?" he reached out a hand to Loki, half blinded by the dust and billowing smoke, "I don't know what's –" his eyes focused and flew wide, "Who are you?" he reached to his side for a sword – one that had been lost in the blast.

Above them there was a dreadful groaning, creaking sound, and Loki lurched up, knocking the man from his feet, and out of the way of the falling timbers, landing squarely on his chest. He pushed himself off, to his feet. The whole building was coming down, and still Thor sought battle with the few fools who would oppose him, "Thor!"

Loki glanced back, and Rungnir was still there, almost cowering, "Fly, fool" To his left, about a yard beyond his reach, Loki caught a glimmer of the gem he'd lost and dove toward it, barely ducking a chunk of the ceiling as it came down.

"Thor!" he called again, nearly choking on the thick smoke, blindly, he groped and his fingers closed around the coldness of the necklace, "Get OUT!"

Finally, it seemed the daft fool saw what was happening all around him, for he leapt through the smoke from the table on which he'd been standing, "Follow me!"

Loki wasn't about to argue.

They came bursting out of the smoke into the cold, clear air only just before the roof of the hall came down completely. The light breeze had carried the flames to many of the nearby buildings and none of the people paid them any mind as they ran.

"That way!" Loki gasped, coughing from the smoke, pointing toward the building where he'd seen them take the cart, Thor nodded and Loki ran the opposite direction, toward the abandoned building where they had chosen to leave the cats.

Faster than Loki would have thought possible, Thor had come with the cart and they were off, leaving Thrymheim a smoking wreck behind them.

~.~

_A few buildings stand._

_A few._

_A girl stands in the midst of the smoking remains of her father's hall. _

_The survivors had told her what had been done. _

_Her father, the blasted fool, had stolen a weapon belonging to the golden prince on his way home from a feast they had thrown in his honor, all for a new woman. Skade scoffed._

_The lout deserved what he had gotten._

_But._

_He was her father, and Skade would have her 'wear geld'._

_She turned to the man beside her who stood, waiting for his orders._

"_Summon the tribes." Skade said coldly._

"For this we will see the High City fall."

~.~

To Be Continued

~.~


	14. Chapter 14 - Violation (part V)

Continued

Picked up shortly upon Thor and Loki's return home.

~.~

~.~

Fandral caught his breath slowly, laughter still tinting the edges of his voice, "I hardly believe that you did it!"

"And that you didn't show us!" Volstagg wheezed, coughing as he attempted to catch his breath.

Loki didn't think he'd seen Hogan so near to smiling, or Sif so near hysterics before in his life.

"We did," Thor said proudly, throwing a heavy arm across Loki's shoulders.

"A brilliant plan," Fandral gasped, wiping tears from his eyes, "Brilliant! They never would have seen it coming!"

"They never did," Thor laughed, "None could see through Loki's act," he gripped Loki's shoulder warmly, shaking him a little to further emphasize his words. "And when we arrived –"

Loki grinned, laughing up at Thor as the elder prince renewed the tale. _None could see through Loki's act_. The words sat warm somewhere in his chest, but there was a bitterness to it too. _You could have _tried_ to see it while it was happening. You were the biggest obstacle to be overcome. _But Thor was Thor. And he would not be reprimanded. _But at least he saw now_.

~.~

"_Good, Cedrin." Skade said, "Very good. I wasn't sure you'd be able to manage it."_

_The tone implied that it was _very_ good for him that he had, though, truth be told, Skade had no ill-will in mind for him. Or the Asgardians either, for that matter. They had killed her father. They owed her – at the very least – the expected blood gold. The princes had been rude – or ignorant – enough to neglect such a formality. Skade would see that it was paid her. Her father may have been an unseemly fool, but she would not have his name so disgraced._

_The men stood before her, ready for her orders, in the light of the rising moon. It had been only a few hours since Cedrin had ridden out to summon the tribes, and here they were._

_She would need the numbers, though not for the task they assumed that they would carry out._

_Skade smiled, expression carving her features into dark hollows in the pale light._

"_The City awaits."_

_~.~_

"Loki, get up," Thor was roughly shaking his shoulder.

"What now?" Loki mumbled, loath to give up the soft folds of sleep, "Did Sif steal your _marvelous_ scarlet cape in an attempt to win your hand?" he chuckled, rubbing his eyes, "You can have mine. I'm afraid I'm not getting involved in this one."

Thor did not sound especially amused, "It is no time for your mocking, Brother. Father sent me."

Loki sat up then. It was a rare thing for their father to send for either of them, especially not in the dark of morning. _It must be something urgent. _Thor was fully dressed, carrying the hammer, further convincing Loki of the gravity of the situation. "What's happened?"

"We're under attack."

~.~

"_Set to work."_

"_Taking down the wall, Lady? The gate-keeper is sure to alert them, if he hasn't already,"_

_Skade smiled thinly, "No doubt he already has."_

_She turned briskly to the man, "Begin taking down the wall. Do what you have to. Make it seem an attack, Cedrin. But make sure the men know that no blood is to be shed. I mean to win my father's death-price another way."_

_Cedrin was puzzled, "Then why bring the tribes at all, Lady? Why destroy the wall?"_

"_Why," she turned back to face him through the dark, "So that they will know better than to ignore my demands."_

~.~

"You might have avoided wording it _quite_ like that, Brother," Loki complained, "You had me believing that _frost giants_ or some such monstrosity were scaling the very walls, running rampant through the streets," he shrugged, acceding, "Though it _was_ an effective way to get me out of bed."

"Silence," Thor nearly growled, "Something's happening."

Loki peered down his nose at the ground far below the wall on which they stood, to where Hodur was speaking with a figure on the ground. It was the Princess Skade. Tall and blond, dressed as a warrior of her people, rough and somewhat uncouth, but striking and fierce all the same. Hodur was gesturing again, and Skade nodded. Their father watched several paces away, out of hearing range – at least of Loki's voice, Thor's was always hard to miss – surrounded by several of the Einheriar, holding Gungnir in his hand, coolly watching the proceedings as if he knew exactly what was coming.

Loki didn't have a clue. But if Father had a plan, then that was good enough.

Thor was still silent, starring darkly at the small figures. Loki strained his ears, but heard nothing. He glanced again to his brother. The poor fool. There was no way in the Nine Realms he could hear what it was that they were saying. Father would know, but asking him was utter folly.

Loki leaned forward again, then rocked back easily onto his heels, "Oh," he said teasingly, "she's come great lengths for you. How you _do_ inflame the hearts of all you meet,"

Thor turned his head, confused by the distraction from his rage and only half-hearing like one just waked.

"The Princess," Loki gestured toward the ground, "Do you think she and Mother were in secret confidence?" he leaned forward again, watching Hodur as he spoke, then said, offhand, "That's Father's plan, you know, he's going to marry you off. That's why he didn't object to that little escapade with Thrym."

Thor sighed heavily, rubbing a hand down his face, "Loki, stop," he gave a short coughing sort of laugh, "_I _wasn't the one flirting with a soldier."

Loki looked back at him over his shoulder, grinning in the sharp laughing way that always made Thor smile.

But Thor wasn't smiling now, he was watching the proceedings below the wall with rapt interest. Loki followed the look and saw Hodur turning away and coming back toward the stair that would lead him to audience with their father.

~.~

"_Good. Here they come. Quickly, Cedrin, take the men and be off. I will find you once my price is paid."_

"_My Lady?"_

"_With haste, Fool. Or do _you_ want to rebuild it? There are no horses in bred with the speed of our own besides the witch-horses in the mountains."_

"_They are more than a legend?"_

"_Be gone!"_

~.~

"Why can't they speak louder?" Thor growled under his breath, nearly vibrating with the uncertainty of the situation.

It was entertaining, how seriously he took this. Personally, Loki could hardly care less. Whatever it was that Father was doing, obviously, he had it in good hand. And the men that had come with her had long-since disappeared – lost to the wilderness, "I suppose it's confidential business," Loki said, looking sidelong at his brother. The state of the wall was…troubling, but it could be dealt with later.

"We're not children anymore, Brother," Thor tore his eyes away and met Loki's, "We should know what it is he means to do." He turned impatiently back, in a swirl of off-color scarlet from the rising sun flashing off his cape, "She destroyed our wall, and yet we _negotiate?_"

Loki shrugged, "From what I understood, the beginning of all of this was with a feast that Father held to cement a peace he had won with these tribes. I hardly think he is eager for a war."

"No, the beginning was when he chose to pursue peace with them instead of crushing them for threatening us in the first place. He would let us be taken advantage of, the old fool."

Loki chuckled, "Fortunate for you that he's not listening."

Thor did look at him then, briefly, but he was too caught up in his impatience to see the humor and made no comment.

"And besides, she's _alone_,"

"A coward's act."

"Oh," Loki said, leaning forward slightly to follow the movement his eye had just barely caught, "Something's happened,"

Thor whirled back in time to see Hodur bow and rush from sight, only to appear moments later below them on the ground. He spoke briefly to Skade, and after what seemed an intolerably long amount of time, she nodded and followed Hodur within the walls.

"He's bringing her _within_ the walls?" Thor spluttered incredulously.

Loki shrugged, it had not been something he had expected, generally whatever business was done would have been done outside, but Father must have had some greater plan, "What's she going to do all by herself?"

Thor looked at him like he had suggested something horrendous, "What _can't _she do all by herself?"

"Well, much damage, that's for sure."

Thor snorted and turned to glare in their father's general direction.

Loki thought it best that Father not catch that particular look, "You put much store by a lone woman," but Thor had gotten lucky this time, Father was moving toward the stairs that lead back within the palace.

"She's a woman!" he threw up his hand, as if that explained it.

Loki glanced over at Sif, where she stood with the other warriors and shrugged, "Fair enough."

~.~

_Skade tipped her head to one side, pretending an attitude of indecision and slight dissatisfaction, when really, the AllFather's offer pleased her greatly. _

_She saw the man fidget and decided that she'd made him wait long enough._

_She sighed._

"_Tell the AllFather that I accept his offer," she raised a finger before the man could leave, "on one condition of my own."_

~.~

"We have to make her _laugh_?" Fandral asked again.

Thor was pacing back and forth the length of the table, face dark as the head of a storm.

"And _if_ we do, she chooses one of us to wed." Volstagg confirmed, "What I'd like to know is what happens if we don't?"

Sif made a face, "We keep trying until we do."

"Well, from what I've seen, this could take quite a while," Fandral ran his hands through his hair, "The woman has a face like granite."

"And they've been at it already all morning," Hogan said, sheathing the dagger he'd been examining with a sharp _click_.

Thor continued pacing.

"Does the AllFather have a man in mind for her?" Sif asked, flicking her eyes between the princes. Loki started, raising his eyes from his hands which were laid before him on the table-top. He shrugged wordlessly and looked up at Thor who didn't appear to have heard.

"From what I heard," Volstagg said, "it is her choice,"

"Oh, Blast!" Fandral was worrying at his hair again and threw his hands down.

"Well," Sif turned back to Thor – who was still pacing – and Loki, "You two are off the hook, being the heirs I hardly think the AllFather would barter you off,"

Loki chuckled, shaking his head as he glanced at Thor, then went back to looking at his hands.

"But what of us!" Fandral moaned.

"Yes," Volstagg laughed, "And what of _you_ specifically. A fine specimen _you_ are."

Fandral ignored him, "Hogan, you're the man for it," he pleaded, "I'm sure you'll be able to manage, just look at her like that,"

Hogan stared at him coolly.

"Yes, that. It makes all of us laugh, doesn't it?"

Sif chuckled in spite of herself, "I think you two should go out together," she said, "and do just this," she looked over to see what the others thought, "Don't you th-" then she stiffened, "Where's Loki?"

They all looked. Even Thor stopped his pacing.

His brother was nowhere to be seen.

~.~

_It was to be a game, then. _

_Skade would let them have their wall and go away without causing any damage to them or their treasured peace if they granted her restitution for her father's blood._

_The AllFather acknowledged that she held a claim over them, and offered her gold._

_No. Skade would not take gold. She had more than she needed from her tribe's trade with the dwarves._

_Would she take an Asgardian for husband, and so gain nobility within the city?_

_Maybe. _

_Best not to appear too eager, though the offer pleased Skade greatly. She hadn't expected the AllFather to offer such a thing._

_She had no desire for life in the city, but titles of Asgardian nobility held great sway. And a marriage between an Asgardian noble and herself was likely to be a thing based purely in politics anyway. It was unlikely to trouble anyone that she chose to live with her own people. _

"_Tell the AllFather I accept his offer, on one condition of my own."_

"_What condition might that be, Lady?"_

"_I am fond of games. If I am to take one of their number to wed, one of them must make me laugh."_

"_I will tell the AllFather of your condition."_

_Skade waited, and moments later, the messenger returned._

"_The AllFather was well pleased with your condition. But he will allow it only if you allow him one of his own."_

"_Name it."_

~.~

It had been a long and tedious morning. Raised early, while all was yet dark, Odin had informed Frigga that the princess had come for vengeance after the slaying of her father. Skadi and her men had destroyed much of the wall before they had been stopped. Such a breach in their defenses was a danger, and not only a danger, it was a reflection – a poor reflection – on the powers of Asgard. It would have to be rebuilt.

But before that, the girl would have to be dealt with. The first thing to be done – beside breaking their fast – was to make her laugh.

This was turning out to be a sterner task than they had expected it to be. The entire court roared with mirth at the tales and antics that were played out before them and yet the most they wrung from Skade was a grim twist of her mouth.

Patience was running out. And with it time.

Suddenly there was a strange sound, an angry bleating noise that – for a moment – Frigga was completely unable to place, hearing it within the palace.

Then Loki strode purposefully into the open center of the room, leading a goat close behind him on a short rope. _What is he doing?_ Smiling up at his father, Loki bowed. The goat bleated angrily and butted him in the hip. Loki glared at him, then turned to Skade and inclined his head. Skade was watching him with a curiosity Frigga hadn't seen before, and hope lit in her chest. She hadn't the faintest notion what her younger son had in mind, but whatever it was, she had complete faith that he would manage it.

Hadn't he always been her little trickster? Her mischief maker?

Loki would manage it.

The goat gave an aggrieved grumble and ducked against Loki's legs. Loki was trying to speak to the princess, telling some story, but the goat would not cease butting him. For a time, Loki tried to ignore it, continuing his tale and only stepping a little aside, to ignore the creature, but the goat followed him. Finally, he gave up the story and began to scold it, tugging on the rope, which only made the animal more angry. No matter how it pulled away from him, though, the goat never managed to gain more than a few inches difference. Then Frigga saw why. Loki had tightly wound the goat's beard into a cord that he had knotted about his own waist. The goat grew more and more agitated, and Loki more and more skittish of the goat's attacks. It wasn't long before Loki had let go of the rope and was being chased by the goat – part-way dragging the unfortunate creature – back and forth and round and round the bare floor. All in the court were laughing at the antics of their younger prince, save for Skade.

Finally, Loki and the unfortunate goat came to a standoff before the Princess. Loki pulling one way and the unhappy creature tugging hard the other, when, finally, the cord snapped. Loki fell backward with a sharp yelp, tumbling into Skade's lap. He blinked dizzily at her, his limbs splayed haphazardly across her knees, the jerked and began struggling to regain his feet.

The goat ran bleating for the nearest exit.

Skade gathered herself more quickly than Loki did. He was just going to smile winningly up at her when she shoved him in an unceremonious heap to the floor.

Loki landed with a _thud_. Slowly, wincing a little, he pushed himself up and favored her with a wry look out of the corner of his eye. "Well," he said dryly, into the ensuing silence, "that was most kind of you."

And Skade began to laugh.

~.~

"_I will tell the AllFather of your condition."_

_Skade waited, and moments later, the messenger returned._

"_The AllFather was well pleased with your condition. But he will allow it only if you allow him one of his own."_

"_Name it."_

"_You are to choose your husband, seeing nothing of him but his legs and feet."_

~.~

"Loki!"

The prince was brushing himself off absently, but raised his head – only just before Frigga had managed to catch him in an embrace.

"Well done, my son," she released him, holding him at arms length, practically glowing with pride, "As soon as you came out with that ridiculous goat I knew we were saved." Loki laughed. "Though I must confess," Frigga continued, slipping her arm through his, subtly directing him to join with the mass of people making their way down to where Skade would – in near blindness – choose her husband, "I had no notion how,"

"Neither did I," Loki admitted. He shrugged, "but it worked out all the same,"

Frigga smiled, pressing his arm affectionately with her hand, "That it did," But something in his voice troubled her. He seemed distracted, dissatisfied, "What troubles you?"

Loki shook his head, wiping away the pensive look and replacing it with one that appeared merely tired.

Frigga raised her brows at him, "Don't you try that with me," she threatened, "or I'll have you cleaning pots for the next week."

That brought a smile, "It's the wall, Mother," he murmured, "It can't be left so. She should not have been allowed to damage it as she did."

"The wall will be mended in time," she soothed, though the same thought had been niggling at her own mind.

"But what if an enemy should discover it?"

"All will be well, Loki," she laid her free hand atop the one already draped across his arm, "Your Father knows what he is doing."

~.~

_Well, by far these were the finest pair of legs. Clearly, they must belong to the finest Asgardian noble. _

"_I have chosen."_

_The fog cleared._

_Skade would be wed to Frey, brother of Freja, son of Njord, within a fortnight's time._

~.~

to be continued

~.~


	15. Chapter 15 - Violation (part VI)

~.~

Continued

~.~

_Vernda_ is a name I made up for Sif's weapon. It is a play off the Icelandic word for Protection.

~.~

~.~

"It was the prince's idea," they whispered.

"What? No. No, _Thor_ would never suggest such a thing."

"Well, if it was his doing, then he should repair it."

"I hear they are none too pleased with him in the palace _now_. Him and his petty tricks. It seems there are some things even a silver tongue cannot wheedle its way out of."

They always grew quiet and still, starring at him as he went by, as if he hadn't been able to hear them the whole time.

Loki let them believe it. Let them believe that he was so lost in his own thoughts as he moved through the palace that the words left no mark.

But every time he went to his window, he could see the mason and his horse, and he could see the rapid rising of the wall.

Mayhap it hadn't been so fine a notion after all.

~.~

"_AllFather,"_

"_Yes, Heimdall, what is it?"_

"_There is a visitor who wishes audience with you from the outer reaches of the Realm. He claims he is a mason."_

"_He claims?"_

"_I sense something beyond my sight, AllFather. His presence is a threat."_

"_Allow him entrance. I would speak with him."_

~.~

Sif caught him as he came out of the library, backed him up against the wall, eyes flashing grey fire. "This is all your doing, Silver Tongue," she spat the pet name as though his given one might make her sick. She shoved him hard in the chest, "Fix it."

He watched her storm away, hollow and blank. He remembered when the words he'd heard whispered, the angry flashes of fire from the other children, the pregnant pauses until they thought he'd passed by, had hurt him. He remembered as a child how he'd hidden in his room and wept, or run to his mother for comfort. He hadn't understood then, why. He'd thought that there must be something he could do to make it stop.

It appeared there wasn't.

But to an extent, he _did_ deserve it now.

After all, if it hadn't been for him and his _silver_ words, the Mason would never have troubled Asgard's fair wall.

~.~

"_You have a wall that needs repair. Yes?"_

_The AllFather nodded his grey head, "That is true."_

"_And I am suspecting that you lack the means,"_

_The AllFather inclined his head again, "The Realm lacks the builders she once had."_

"_I have hands," the Mason raised them, large and knotted with muscle, "And a horse. I would be willing to rebuild her wall."_

"_Alone? It is quite a task."_

"_I told you that I have a horse."_

"_A horse is no pack animal," the blond prince beside the throne said impatiently. _

_The Father gave him a silencing look._

_The Mason repeated stoutly, "I have a horse."_

_The AllFather turned back to him again, "What price would you ask for this work?"_

_The Mason licked his lips, eyes roving hungrily across the hall._

"_Her," he pointed a large finger toward a beautiful, delicate woman in the mass of courtiers. But his eyes made no stop. They searched on until they settled on another girl, this one standing apart from the others, slim and dark and clad in armor, "and her. For my brother."_

_The hall was silent, as though all gathered had caught their breath._

"_Father," the darker prince murmured, barely audible to any but the AllFather, "he offers to do us a great service,"_

"_You're not suggesting we allow this?" The blond asked, much louder than his brother._

_The younger prince shot him a reproachful look, "Tell him he will only be paid if he completes the work alone, before the summer solstice. It is only a month away. No one – horse or no horse – could complete it in such a time."_

"_You would barter away Sif and Freja?"_

"_No, Thor. We will barter away nothing, and gain much by it."_

_The face of the AllFather was impassive._

"_Father, we can't-"_

"_Silence."_

_The AllFather rose._

"_Let us speak of your conditions."_

~.~

Two days. The Mason had yet two days. The wall, at the rate he was building it, would be completed in a day and a half.

Loki had never seen anything like it. The man rode out with his horse – a magnificent animal – every morning, and cut the stones he would need. After the noon hours, he would lay the stones, allowing the animal to eat. The Mason himself – as far as Loki could tell – never did. It seemed he never slept either. At night, Loki lay awake, hearing always the low thudding of the huge stones.

He'd seen many things during his time among the realms, but never had Loki seen a man who worked so furiously, or a horse that was as strong as the stallion he owned.

It made him curious.

Late in the night, Loki had flung himself from his bed – giving up entirely on sleep – and dressed, taking himself quietly down to the libraries. There had to be some answer.

He found nothing. Not that night. But Thor was sullen and avoided him and most everyone else in Asgard either openly or discretely blamed him for their plight. None of them believed the mason to be what he had at first seemed to them. Loki made it his business to find out. The mason frightened them, but now, there was nothing for it. The bargain was struck and binding until death. But not if Loki could find a way out of it.

The first step to defeating you opponent, was to know him.

It was four days into his search that he found what he had been looking for. Bleary and hardly conscious from lack of sleep, the words swimming before his eyes in the flickering half-light of the burned out candles, ears ringing from the unrelenting silence, he found it. It was nothing about the mason, but about his _horse_.

"Mother,"

"Loki! Where have you been?"

His vision swam, but what he knew was important, "Mother, the Mason," he caught at her arm, barely upright, "It's not him, it's his horse."

"That's good, Loki. You need to sleep. Have you eaten?"

Loki shook his head, fumbling for a way to reach her through the haze, "Mother, it's a witch,"

"What are you talking about, my son?"

He realized that she had lead him to a soft place, and that there was something firm behind him. He tried to sit up, but she pushed him firmly back, "You will sleep."

It was dark when Loki came back to himself, sprawled on a padded bench in one of the rooms of his mother's quarters. It took him a few moments to remember how he had gotten there. And then he swore, pushing himself up and off and out the door. He didn't feel ready to move, but he didn't have time. He'd wasted more than he could afford already.

~.~

Something was strange. Thor didn't know what it was, but there was something missing. Something he had grown accustomed to….

The mason. Thor went to the wall where he found Sif.

"What has happened?" Then he saw what it was he had missed. The sound. There was no sound of building. All was silence and stillness. The mason was nowhere to be seen.

Sif was uneasy as he, "I don't know."

~.~

"Thor,"

He turned to face her, "Yes? What is it Mother?"

"Have you seen your brother?"

Thor's eyes went dark, "No. What has he done now?"

"Don't speak of him like that," she reprimanded, "he's doing what he thinks best."

"He has endangered our friends. How can that be best?"

"The City was in danger."

"And now Sif and Freja are. This all began when we went out to protect them."

"No, Thor," she laid a hand on his arm, "This all began when Mjolnir, a weapon and relic of great power was first misplaced, and then stolen."

His tone was more subdued as he repeated, "I have not seen him." Then his head came up, curious, "What do you want with him?"

"He came to me yesterday afternoon, he was trying to tell me something about the Mason's horse."

Thor's eyes lit up, "They haven't been at work today. Maybe Loki found something,"

Frigga nodded, "I agree, Son, but I fear that he may have done something rash. I was hoping that he might have confided in you."

"No," Thor looked away, "I haven't spoken with him since the Mason came," his expression flickered ruefully, "What did he say to you?"

Frigga felt her mouth tip in a wry sort of smile, "Something about the horse. He was," she didn't think that Loki would like Thor to know how near collapsing he'd been when he had come to her and so adjusted, "very tired at the time. I told him to go to sleep, and tell me when he woke."

"And he didn't."

Frigga shook her head, "but mayhap he left some record in the libraries. I will look there. Thank you my son."

~.~

There is a legend that these spirits still roam the hills. This legend has been forgotten by most in the realm, but it is still told as a tale of warning to the young children of the mountain and plains people. Some believe that there are certain ceremonies that may be performed to introduce these spirits into the bodies of animals or possibly even persons. If the tales are to be believed, this ceremony can only be performed on a young creature. All attempts on adults have ended in death. Other story-tellers say that the spirits obey no master, and this is the most likely tale, but enter the body of their own free will. They then give the creature strength and endurance beyond telling. I said above that the existence of a ceremony to produce such a creature at will is unlikely, and my meaning is this. If such a ceremony were to exist the people of the outer tribes would have tried it long ago, for though the spirit departs at the death of the beast, often its strength and spirit live on in their offspring – sometimes changed to a new or better form. The creatures owned by those that live in the outer reaches of the realm are well-bred, for certain, but spirit-bred? It is unlikely. There is a similar tale, among the sea-dwellers of Vanaheim….

~.~

"Sif, have you seen my brother?"

She looked at him like he'd asked something both ridiculous and repulsive, "No. I have not."

"Mother thinks he may have something to do with the Mason's disappearance."

Sif snorted, "I doubt it. _I_ think it is the daylight. His bet is lost come sundown, and he has done nothing all day. Even with that beast he has, there is no way for him to complete it. I think he's given up."

Thor rested his fists on the rough wall, "I hope you're right."

There was movement at the edges of the trees. Thor squinted at it.

"What is that?" Sif asked behind him.

Then they heard the roaring, and saw the shape crashing through the trees.

~.~

_A tall, burly man bent over a large stone – nearly as large as himself – grumbling to himself as he gripped its base, strained, and lifted it, carrying it laboriously across the several yards between himself and the cart. The cart was already part-way filled with stones, guarded by a large stallion._

_A slim black mare lurked in the nearby pines, watching with some amount on interest. _

_What would distract a stallion, more than a ready mare?_

~.~

It gained momentum, and size. Thor thought his eyes must be deceiving him, but there was a shimmering about the figure and it was morphing larger and fiercer.

He felt Sif stiffen behind him, "Is that -?"

"The Mason." He finished for her, Mjolnir coming easily to his hand. He looked over, "He didn't give up."

She gave a short laugh, "Should I get the others?"

"Have you Vernda?"

Sif didn't answer, but her eyes sparkled as she drew the weapon and extended it.

~.~

_Everything hurt._

_He felt cleaned out. Broken and filthy._

But it isn't me, _he thought, a touch fiercely. _It's this form. All I have to do is change back.

_He hadn't accounted for the strength and speed of the stallion. Of course the spirit would have built it's natural strength. _Of course it would have. _Loki had planned for the speed of a moderately swift stallion, not the avalanche that had overwhelmed him._

_Rising with some difficulty, Loki went to release the work and shift back to his true form. _

_A burning acidic thing blossomed in his belly. It hooked deep, tugging out, pulling and tearing at his insides._

_With a strangled cry, he let it go, collapsing back to the ground._

_Why couldn't he change? Panting, Loki searched through the options. Releasing the work was supposed to be easy, it was pulling it back that was hard. Even now, it was only part-way there, worrying at the edges of his sight. _

_That was unlikely to be pleasant when it let go._

_But why hadn't it?_

Oh Norns.

~.~

~.~

To be continued

~.~


	16. Chapter 16 - Violation (part VII)

Time had passed. The Mason was defeated. What little remained of the wall, had been rebuilt. The City was none the worse for the adventure. Sif and Freja were safe.

But Loki was still missing.

No one was too troubled, it was assumed that he would come back when he felt like it. Could harm have come to him? The Silver-tongue? Surely not. He knew he had made a rash play, and he thought to stay out of sight until the ire of the palace people had been forgotten. No doubt he'd be back soon, probably with some rich gift for his father in hopes that his dishonorable conduct might be forgotten.

Not spoken of, possibly. Forgotten, no.

Cowardly deeds are remembered at least as long as brave ones, often longer.

Much longer.

~.~

It was three days ago that Heimdall's message had come, and the guards had gone out. Finally, he had been able to find Loki. Frigga had gone to him many times, asking after her lost son, and every time, he had said the same thing. Loki was on the realm, but something was shrouding him from sight. It was some working of magic. Heimdall would have to know what form he was holding. Was Loki alright? Heimdall couldn't say.

When the guards came into the palace, Frigga was there to meet them. Loki was unconscious and rushed to the healing rooms.

A strange creature was found with him, lead by a thin cord about its neck. It was a colt, no more than a day or two old, strong and healthy, but with eight legs, as opposed to the usual four.

The creature was taken to the stables by Frigga's orders, and she herself went to the healing rooms to see after her son.

Eir could find no mark on him, no sign of any internal hurt or illness. "The best I can get at," she said finally, "is that he hurt himself with his magic."

"Is there nothing you can do?"

"Whatever his hurt is, Lady, it is in his mind. I can do nothing for him there."

~.~

Frigga was there when he waked. Green eyes opened slowly, then blinked several times, roved around the room – like he couldn't quite tell where he was – then they lighted on her, and his mouth twisted into a wry smile, "Hello, Mother,"

"Hello, Loki," she stroked his hand which had been clasped in both of hers as she sat beside him, "Did I wake you?"

He shook his head, pushing himself up so he was sitting against the pillows.

"Where have you been?"

He waved his free hand, carefully avoiding her eyes, "About. What has happened here?"

"The Mason is gone," she said carefully, "slain by your brother." He showed no great reaction to that, so she continued, "The evening of the solstice, the Mason showed his true form as a troll from the outer reaches of the realm. He attacked the city. I do not know why he gave up on the building, he had nearly reached his goal."

"I'm afraid that that would be my fault," Loki said, barely raising his eyes, "I lured away his horse."

Frigga nodded, having expected as much. The papers Loki had been reading before he had disappeared had been left spread across the tables of one of the libraries. She had done research of her own. Between what she had read and what she had seen, she was fairly sure she knew all her son had experienced.

She reached into a pouch at her belt and brought out the broken chain and sparkling gem still caught on it and pressed it into his palm, "The guards found this beside you when they brought you in. Along with a – rather strange little creature,"

Loki's mouth was a thin line, "I had rather hoped that was all a dream," he sighed, rubbing his eyes in a weary way and handed the gem back to her, "Bury it," he said, "Hide it. Whatever you have to do. Just make sure I will never find it."

She took his hand and squeezed it wordlessly until he met her eyes, questioning her silence, "I know for what the gem is used, my son."

He looked away.

"What happened?"

He didn't answer her, but raised his head to look out the window, "What did Heimdall tell you?"

"Nothing, he couldn't see you without knowing the illusion you used. All I know from Heimdall is that you did not leave the realm."

Loki was still not looking at her, but now at his own hand on the sheet, "And what do you know from other sources?"

The voice was cautious, eyes guarded, afraid of what she might think, what she might say. She tightened her grip on his hand, rubbing her thumb up and down the back of it. "The morning after you disappeared, I went to find you in the library. But instead of you, I found the manuscripts you'd been reading. I read about the witch horses, and how strong they were, and how…_exceptional_ their offspring could be. When the Mason didn't return all day, and only came back that night, filled with rage and lacking his stallion, I wondered what had become of his horse. When you did not return, I became worried."

Loki made no move to speak, mouth a straight line, eyes trained on his hand.

"When you returned, unconscious, and with the…colt,"

Loki mumbled something, still not looking up.

"What?"

"Sleipnir," he murmured, "'the glider'. I thought it a fitting name."

Frigga felt her mouth turn up a little at the corners, even though the bleeding of her heart, "When you returned with Sleipnir, and the men found you unconscious, and still with the gem, I remembered how you had changed form to help your brother regain his hammer, and I did not think it could be much harder to assume the form of a mare than that of a maiden."

Loki didn't speak.

"And when they scoured the country for the colt's mother," she continued cautiously, "and found not a horse between here and Thrymheim, I became convinced of my suspicions. I though about it further, and I though it likely that such an occurrence might prevent an illusion from releasing its caster, and that that might have been what it was that kept my son from returning to me."

All was silent a moment, then Loki took a breath through his nose and let it out.

"Who else knows?"

"No one," she said, "I shared my suspicions with none, not even your father."

Loki closed his eyes and gave a sharp nod.

It was a moment before he spoke again, "I tried to teleport both the colt and myself to the palace. We were far to the North, in the woods by the mountains."

"But Loki, that's so far!"

He nodded, "it was too much for me, after…" he trailed off for a moment, then began again, "I tried to release the work the day I took it up,"

Frigga noticed how carefully he spoke, and brought his hand up to brush his fingertips against her lips.

"I couldn't let it go," he glanced at her – _you were right_ – "but neither could I take it up again. It stayed, but it pulled and made everything seem strange," he rubbed his eyes, "I don't know where I was, I didn't know where I was, I hardly knew _that_ I was."

She murmured soothingly by instinct, hardly knowing she was doing it.

"Until…I," his eyes flicked to her and quickly away again, "I have no idea how you did it Mother, _twice_."

A pang struck her heart and she wanted to tell him right then, _wished_, with all her heart that he already knew.

"The illusion spat me out, and when I came back to myself, I found…him, and that I was in the mountains. I knew I couldn't stay there, but the form was still caught in my mind and I couldn't do anything."

He closed his eyes again and took a deep breath, "He wouldn't leave me, and when I could move again, I – couldn't leave him there, I knew he would die."

Frigga didn't know what to say to him. She'd suspected the truth for some time, but it seemed a great part of her had hoped that she was wrong, and wasn't at all prepared for the fact that she might be right.

"Where is he?" Loki asked, eyes still closed, a moment later.

"In the stables," she said, "I didn't know where else to keep him,"

"No," he said, "the stables are fine. Unless Father has a better idea. In fact, I will give him to Father. He's already very fast," the words were spoken in a sort of exhausted undertone, eyes remaining closed as he leaned back against the headboard, "One day he will make a marvelous steed. You read what the manuscripts said."

Frigga gave a soft laugh, combing back his hair with her fingers, "I am glad you are returned to us,"

"They all think me run out of cowardice, don't they?" he asked suddenly, still not moving.

Frigga saw the bitter tilt to his mouth, "I don't –"

"Don't bother," he murmured, "of course they do. Anyone would. _I _would,"

"I don't,"

"That's because I told you,"

It wasn't the whole truth, and he knew that, but it raised a point. She knew it was useless to suggest that he tell anyone else what he had told her. His pride would never allow it. And besides, what would it help? Which would he rather be, a coward, or the Asgardian Prince who birthed his father's steed?

"One thing's for sure," Loki murmured, raising a hand, to rub at his forehead and gave a sudden sound that could have with equal ease been a laugh or a sob, "I won't be going anywhere near the stables anytime soon."

"Oh, Loki," she leaned forward and kissed his forehead. His fingers closed lightly around her hand. He did not open his eyes, nor did he speak, and soon, her boy was again asleep.

~.~

Concluded

~.~

(there should be four more chapters and an 'epilogue' yet to come)


	17. Chapter 17 - Mourn

**A few of these scenes are direct quotations of scenes in the movie **_**Thor**_**, and/or deleted/extended scenes of that movie.**

**~.~**

_**Duartr**_** is an Icelandic name I found that means 'Rich guard'. I don't know who the guy was really supposed to be.**

**~.~**

_**Fensalir**_** is Frigga's palace in the mythology. I'm presenting it as a sort of summer house/cottage.**

**~.~**

Frigga strode into the room, anger greater than any she'd felt in some time roiling in her breast. Odin was standing in the half-light, calm and quiet as he always was these days, overlooking the gleaming flicker of the city's lights.

Frigga saw no beauty in the city this night. "How could you have done this?"

Odin turned to her, angry in his own turn, "Do you understand what he has set in motion? He's taken us to the brink of war!"

"But banishment?!" she lowered her voice, "You would loose him forever? He's your son!" Her voice felt raw.

Odin looked at her, face calm and unreadable, "What would you have done?"

Frigga felt herself collapsing inwardly, "I would not have exiled him to a realm of mortals, stripped of his powers to suffer alone," she shook her head helplessly, "I would not have had the heart."

Odin leaned toward her, driving each word home, "That is why I am king."

Frigga wanted to argue, but she couldn't find the words.

"I too grieve," Odin shouted, hitting his fist against his chest, "the loss of our son," then, much lower, quieter, almost to himself, "But there are some things even I cannot undo."

"You can bring him back,"

It was a desperate plea, and met with the reaction she expected. "No!" he looked away, seeming suddenly quiet and sad, "Thor's fate is in his own hands now."

Odin turned and left the room without another word.

Frigga remained, watching him go, worry and confusion darkening her grey eyes. The Allfather had some purpose, but – as was ever his way – he was loath to share it. He was weary, she could see it, but even now he would take no rest.

Frigga turned away and looked out over the city to the bridge, imagining that she could see over it to her lost son.

~.~

"_Amma,"_

_Frigga was pacing, clutching her writhing little bundle tightly to her, "What is it Thor?"_

"_I don't like it anymore."_

"_You don't like what?"_

"_I don't like _it_," he pointed at the baby. _

"_Not 'it', Thor, 'he'." _

"Why_ won't he _stop crying_, Amma?"_

"_He's just a baby, Thor. He hasn't yet learned to speak."_

_Thor shoved his fists against his head to stop up his ears, his little face screwed up and red with frustration, "Take him back!"_

"_Back where, Thor?" Frigga said wearily, not really thinking about what it was she was saying._

"_Back wherever you found him!"_

_A shock went through her and she looked at her angry son. _How had he learned…_then she reprimanded herself. _

"_We can't do that, Thor. He belongs with us now. You cried much when you were little too, you know."_

"_I did?"_

_Frigga nodded, patting the little one on the back as he began to quiet himself. "Once, your squalling nearly woke all of the people in the city."_

"_The whole city?" Thor laughed, then, "Amma, he's stopped!"_

_Loki was looking around, eyes bright and wet as he hiccupped. Frigga smiled down at him, "I think he likes your voice," she touched Thor's hand and he looked at her, "Would you like to hold him?"_

_Thor looked at the baby for a minute, almost suspiciously, then nodded and marched over to the little bench at the side of the room. He sat down and expectantly held out his arms._

_Frigga crouched down and carefully laid the tiny boy in his brother's lap. _

_Loki looked at her uncertainly for a moment, but then Thor laughed. The little one startled, then looked up at his big brother, and he smiled, his eyes bright and green and shinning. _

~.~

"_Amma, what are you doing?"_

"_I am braiding my hair,"_

_Loki tipped his little face up, "Is it magic?"_

_She laughed, "No,"_

"_Will you teach me?"_

"_Don't you want to go and play with the other children?"_

"_No." Loki said, very sure, "I want to braid."_

_Frigga laughed again, lowering herself to the floor, "Alright, let me show you,"_

_When Thor came bounding back – vibrating with all the pent-up energy left over from his lessons he found them playing together on the floor. Several locks of Frigga's hair were braided, some by her, but most by her clever little son. _

_Thor threw himself nearly on top of her, "What are you doing, Mother?"_

"_We were braiding,"_

"_See, Thor?" Loki held up a rope of colored threads he'd knotted together. _

"_Nice," Thor nodded, then peered upside-down to Frigga's face, all his blond hair tumbling forward, "Can we go outside?" _

"_Go ahead,"_

"_Come on, Loki!"_

_And with a rush and a clatter, the two boys were gone. _

~.~

_Frigga heard them talking before she saw them. She hardly bothered to look up from her work, "How did you do this time?"_

"_We did well," Loki said, which surprised her, usually Thor was brimming with excitement and it was his voice she heard more than that of his brother. It occurred to her now that she'd heard Thor as they'd been coming, but it had predominantly been Loki's voice that had alerted her to their presence, "But Thor's sulking because he broke his necklace,"_

"_It swung out of my mail as I moved," Thor showed her the remains of the cord and fiery gold plume. It had been a gift from the dwarf smiths some time ago, and it was a rare thing these days to see Thor without it. The pendant was supposed to be a phoenix's feather, and it appeared that it had been twisted off of the loop of gold wire that held it to its cord. _

"_Well if you haven't been lumbering around like an ox –"_

"_It's not funny, Loki!"_

_Loki smirked, "That's debatable," _

_Thor turned to glare at him, but Loki had moved behind him and was examining the pieces in Thor's palm. Thor closed his fist and drew it protectively to him._

"_That's it?" Loki asked disbelievingly, "That's all? Thor, I could fix that with a scrap of wire! What are you fretting about?"_

"_But I CAN'T fix it, and the dwarves already left!"_

"_I didn't say you could, I said I could. Give it to me."_

_Loki held out his hand expectantly, and Thor let him have the remnants, "You'll fix it?"_

"_No, Thor, I'll hide it."_

_Thor's eyebrows darted together._

_Loki shoved him, "Of course I'm going to fix it."_

_It was two or three days later that Frigga was working, when Loki came in._

"_Mother, do you know where Thor's gotten to?"_

"_No, I expected that he'd be with you,"_

_Loki shook his head, suppressing a grin, "I was busy," _

"_Oh?"_

_With a flourish, he brought out the necklace – fully restored. _

"_Loki, it's wonderful!"_

_He nodded, glowing with pride, tucking it back away._

"_Now I just have to find Thor."_

_When Frigga found her elder son later that day, he was proudly bearing a new trophy on a cord about his neck. She found the phoenix feather lying carefully placed where it had been abandoned on a table. Loki was nowhere to be seen._

~.~

The chamber was silent. Eir and her maidens had left with apologetic glances.

"There is nothing to be done, my Lady," she'd said, "Nothing but to bide out the time."

"Thank you Eir," she'd answered, her voice steady and gentle and controlled. She turned toward the bed, where Odin lay, cast deep into the protective embrace of his Odin-sleep.

With a deep sigh, the queen sunk down beside the bed. "What have we done, husband?" she murmured, "What was it that you had meant to happen?" the figure on the bed gave her no answer, and she sighed again, kneading her finger-tips into her temples, "I do not know your mind as I once did."

There was a sound, and Frigga looked up. Loki stood uncertainly by the doorway, very still, but seeming to waver between really entering the room and turning away again. She was reminded of a time long ago, and a small boy, often frightened in the dark. A boy who was afraid to come nearer and wake her, but all the same, badly wanting the company.

"Loki," her voice was a low whisper, and she spread her arm, beckoning him closer, "sit with me."

Loki looked down at his feet, like he had to will them to move, and came across the floor in the smooth way he had – like a trained dancer or a wild cat – but he did not come to her. He walked to the opposite side of the great bed and sat down, facing her, but seeming unwilling to look up.

He was afraid, Frigga thought. _My poor boy_. First there was an attack in the heart of the palace of the High City, which had been impenetrable for centuries, and then his brother – whom Loki had always adored, even through their vehement arguing – had been banished to _Midgard_, unlikely to return soon, if ever. And _after_ all of that – on the same day – a day that had started so gloriously – his father had fallen into the Odin-sleep – a thing that hadn't happened in his lifetime and frightened even her – even after she'd seen it happen before. She wanted to reach out and touch his hand, but the expanse of bed between them was too wide.

_He'd been there for all of it_, she realized and her eyes flickered across the bed. He was very blank, and it made something in her chest hurt. _All of it gone, all in an instant._

"You were there," she murmured, "What happened?"

Loki's eyes flicked to her, startled. He opened his mouth, shut it, and looked away. She thought for a moment that he might weep, but he closed his eyes, then opened them and carefully said, "He told me." Like that was all the explanation needed.

Frigga felt her brows draw together, a cold little finger tracing swirls down her spine, "Told you what, my son?"

Loki turned away as though the words were a blow, but his face stayed perfectly blank, and there was no hitch to his voice as he answered, slowly, "I learned…much…on Thor's little jaunt to Jotunheim," he took a breath, "So I asked, and…Father told me what I needed to know."

"Loki," Frigga wanted to go around the bed and hold him as he had let her do when he was small. She wanted to hold him and stroke his hair while he cried and she told him it would all get better from here. But she knew better than that. Loki was no longer a little child. Things were no longer so blessedly simple.

_Though they could have been._

But then she thought of the possibilities Odin had presented to her all the times they had spoken on it, and she shied away from them. _It was always going to be hard for him to bear._ She had thought. _Better for him to bear it when he is older and more able._

Frigga took a deep breath. Loki was still there, looking down. She knew the mind of her younger son. She knew how cleverly and quickly he could puzzle things out – sometimes so quickly that he missed what was directly before his feet and was liable to fall over it. She knew the dizzy circles and answerless questions that had to be running rampant behind his eyes. The blank expression only proved it to her.

He was confused and frightened. He doubted her trust, her love. Frigga prayed to the Norns that she could prove him wrong.

So she began to speak. She told him the story she'd been wishing – and dreading – to tell him since he'd first been laid in her arms. Loki didn't move – didn't speak – all through the telling, but starred blankly toward Odin's prone figure like a thing turned to stone.

"I asked him to be honest with you from the beginning," she concluded, shaking her head, "There should be no secrets in a family."

Finally, Loki spoke, voice a strange, controlled sort of monotone, "So why did he lie?"

He needed to understand. Frigga felt herself lean forward, "He kept the truth from you so that you would never feel different," Loki was looking at her now, still very blank. It was like throwing stones to fill a void. He _needed_ to understand, "You are our son, Loki, and we your family. You _must_ know that," _After everything, all the years, you _have _to know, somewhere in your heart that you will always be mine._ Loki blinked and looked down. She thought he might speak, but his lips stayed clamped shut. "You can speak to him," she offered, "He can see and hear us even now."

"How long will it last?" he said, finally.

Frigga lowered her gaze to Odin, trying to remember the last time, "I don't know, this time it's different. We were unprepared."

Loki seemed more comfortable now that the subject had changed, "I'm never going to get used to seeing him like this," he whispered, more himself, "The most powerful being in the nine realms, lying helpless, until his body is restored."

Frigga reached over and touched Odin's hand, stroked it, "He's put it off for so long now, that I fear…" she looked up in time to see his expression flicker, betraying what she already knew to be true. "You're a good son," she said earnestly. Loki looked up, mask firmly in place again, eyes very pale in the dim light. "We mustn't loose hope that your father will return to us. And your brother."

Loki straightened up then, his head tipping to one side like it always had when he was genuinely puzzled by something she'd said, "What hope is there for Thor?"

"There's always a purpose to everything your father does." It was something she'd had to tell herself every day since he'd placed her tiny second son into her arms, but, nonetheless, it was something that she'd come to trust. More strongly now that she was trying to reassure her son, "Thor may yet find a way home."

Loki didn't answer, but after a moment, he stood and made his way to the foot of the bed. No sooner had he reached it then the doors opened slowly toward him. He froze in his place.

Frigga watched as the row of guards saluted and went down on one knee in the hall outside of the room. Then Duartr, a high minister of the palace, came into the room, bearing Gungnir ceremonially before him. Without speaking, in the ceremonial silence, Duartr went down on his knees before Loki, bowing his head and offering the great spear.

Loki turned to her, face contorted in shocked confusion and something like fear.

"Thor is banished," Frigga answered, raising her voice regally, "The line of succession falls to you." She had known that Duartr was likely to bring the spear to her, for as queen it was her place to name the successor, or to choose to remain regent herself. She didn't know what Odin had been planning, but Loki doubted her trust. She would prove him wrong. "Until Odin awakens," she announced, "Asgard is yours."

Loki looked down, then, slowly turned back to the man.

Duartr raised the spear high again.

Munin, on his perch beside the bed, cawed into the silence.

Frigga hoped it was a sign of Odin's approval. She saw Loki raise himself proudly, saw him reach out and reverently take up his father's spear.

Duartr stood, and bowed.

"Make your father proud," Frigga whispered.

Loki turned, very slowly toward her, fingers closing about the golden spear shaft.

Frigga inclined her head, never taking her eyes from her son, "My king."

~.~

"_Amma, my hands are prickling,"_

"_Were you sitting on them, Loki?"_

"_No, Amma, not like that. It feels funny and sparky,"_

_Frigga looked up at her little son as he rubbed his hands, little face twisted in some distress._

_She knew what bothered him. It had been in her mind for some time that it might._

_She laid aside her work, "Do you want to learn a game?"_

"_My hands hurt,"_

"_Try this, it will help."_

_Loki, even young as he was, learned quickly. He stared in wonder at the little glowing light in his palm. It wasn't quite a flame, just a little ball of light, but the light on his palm was nothing compared to the light in his eyes. _

~.~

_Frigga was sorry that Odin had not chosen to set aside business long enough to come, but she wasn't going to let it ruin the trip. It was the first time they'd come in years. _

_Fensalir was just as beautiful as she'd remembered it. The gardens had done nothing but grow and thrive, and the people she had sent ahead of them had made sure all was gleaming for their arrival. _

_The palace was small, very small, but it was sweet, and it reminded Frigga of a more simple time. And she thought it good to get out of the city, even just for a while._

_Thor was starring around, wide-eyed, almost shaking with barely-contained excitement as he darted back and forth across the courtyard, always finding some other marvelous thing that could lead him to a more glorious adventure that the one before._

_Loki had wandered away and was leaning over the side of a deep fountain-pool, watching the fiery-orange fish that swirled just below the surface. "Thor," he waved to his brother, beckoning him over, "come and see!"_

_After a dazed second, Thor seemed to hear him and – too overwhelmed with excitement and opportunity to find any objection or counter-demand – stumbled over._

_Loki pointed at the sinuous creatures, "Aren't they marvelous?" _

_Thor didn't notice, but Frigga saw the way he suddenly caught his lip in his teeth as Thor looked away, like he was afraid his wonder wouldn't live up to the many wondrous things Thor had already discovered. _

_Thor appraised them critically for a moment, then nodded, "Yes," his eyes lit up as he turned sharply toward his brother, "Wouldn't it be grand to catch one?"_

_Frigga saw how the look on Loki's face evaporated into a wide grin._

"_You want to catch one?"_

"_Yes," he started to turn away, "I think I saw –"_

_Before Thor could finish, Loki caught at him, and the next thin Frigga could see, Thor was in the pond, and Loki out of it, leaning forward and laughing, "Loki!"_

_He didn't have time to respond, even if he did hear her. Thor came up, spluttering, laughing, then grabbed Loki by his shoulders and pulled him in._

_Frigga caught her breath to call to them both to stop it at once, but once Loki had his breath back he was laughing and they were having so much fun she hadn't the heart to make them stop._

~.~

_Frigga was startled from her work by a quick pattering of feet and then a hand tugging – a little panicked – at her skirt._

"_Loki, what is it?"_

"_Amma, fix it, you _have_ to fix it,"_

"_Loki," there were streaks of blood and dirt across his face and clothes, his hair was tousled and mussed. She ran her fingers through it, combing out a leaf that was caught there._

_He moved, shifting and showing her the tiny form that lay crumpled in his hand, pressed against his body. It was a little sparrow, bright and blue, frozen in death. _

_He watched her, green eyes hopeful and pleading._

_Frigga felt a sharp pang of grief. _

_She took the boy's hand and lead him to a bench. She sat down and stood him before her. Carefully, she took the little creature from his soft hand, and laid it gently on the table beside her, taking both of his hands in hers. _

"_Can you fix it?"_

"_No, Loki,"_

_His face twisted and he began to cry. His forehead came down against her collarbone and she held him as the whole story tumbled out. _

_Later, she'd gotten the rest of it from Thor, who had been there for the end._

_He told her how he'd found Vali throwing stones at a tall tree. He'd asked what Vali had been doing, and Vali had told him that he was trying to knock a nest from the branches. But Loki had been looking at that nest the day before, and he knew that it was not empty. He tried to tell Vali, but the older boy didn't care, so Loki had fought with him. He'd had much the worse of the fight, as Frigga could tell, but if Thor was to be believed, Loki's attack had been much stronger than Vali had expected and he had been much shaken. Thor had come to Loki's rescue, but as Loki had stood up, rubbing the tears and grime from his face he'd seen the bird. He didn't know if Vali had killed it._

_He raised his little, tear-stained face to her, "Amma, why can't you help it? It's so small and beautiful," _

"_It is dead. Its spirit has already flown away to Valhalla,"_

"_Birds can go to Valhalla?"_

"_Why not? The brave warriors there need some beauty sometimes, don't they?"_

_Slowly, Loki nodded, and then he began to smile._

"_That's better," she wiped his face with a corner of her gown._

"_Will it sing to them?"_

"_I'm sure he will."_

~.~

Ice coated the insides of the doors, spreading from the cracks between them. The doors that were not to open without the presence of one charmed to enter. One of the royal family, or one of the most trusted servants.

_Frost giants._

Frigga leapt to her feet, lunging to the end of the bed and drawing the sword hidden there, holding it before her as she went to meet the attackers.

The ice had spread to the walls.

The weapon felt strange in her hands. _It's been a long time._

The doors swung unwillingly open and a Jotun, huge and sickly blue stepped through into the golden chamber. He shot out a hand for her chest and Frigga brought the sword down instinctually. The creature crumpled to the ground, but was followed closely by another who backhanded her, sending the sword flying from her grip and her body tumbling across the floor.

Foggily through the throbbing in her head, Frigga heard voices, one gravelly and cold, that went on for what seemed an age – and age that she could do nothing but hear – and then another voice, low and menacing – _Loki!_ There was the sound of an explosion, and Frigga lurched through the dizzy haze off of the floor.

She saw Loki, in full battle armor. Saw him level the spear. Saw him kill the Jotun king.

Frigga pulled herself to her feet, "Loki!" he turned and came toward her. She met him at the foot of the bed, "You saved him!" Putting her arms up around his shoulders, she felt his arm tight about her.

He moved back, putting a hand to her waist, stooping a little to meet and hold her eyes, "I swear to you, Mother," he said, the words coming harsh and vehement, "that they will pay for what they have done today."

"Loki."

Frigga's head shot up as she spun toward the door, her heart starting sharply in her chest, "Thor!" She ran to meet him, embracing the son she'd thought lost, "I knew you'd return to us!" She stepped away, keeping a hand to his shoulder, but then stopped as she saw the look on his face, the way he watched his brother, the way he slowly began to move toward him.

Frigga turned, but far from being overjoyed, Loki was backing toward the far side of the room, putting the bed and their sleeping father between himself and Thor.

"Why don't you tell her how you sent the Destroyer to kill our friends, to kill me,"

Thor's words were loud and angry and at first Frigga didn't understand what they meant.

"Oh I must have been enforcing Father's last command," Loki had a strange, forced, look to his face that was all wrong and Frigga knew that something was horribly amiss.

"You're a talented Liar, Brother, always have been." Thor growled.

"It's good to have you back," Loki touched his chest, eyes wide and somehow _wrong_, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to destroy Jotunheim."

The explosion from the spear threw Thor from his feet and through the wall in a shower of gold. Frigga felt herself cry out, throwing her hands up to block her face from the shrapnel.

Before she could recover herself, Frigga saw Loki stride quickly out of the room, face hard and set. By the time she had achieved the doorway, he was out of sight. Thor would be alright. Wherever Loki was going, Thor would bring him back. She returned to Odin's bedside. Still, he had not stirred. She sunk down beside him, touching his hand, confusion, shock and horror thick around her in a way she hadn't felt it in _so_ long, "_What_ has happened?"

~.~

"_Mother, do I really have to go? Again?"_

"_Loki, it is part of your training. Of course you must."_

_The boy leaned his head against his hand. His voice was a low mumble._

"_I'm not any good."_

_Frigga looked up at him sharply, "Who told you that?"_

_Loki looked away, he shrugged. "Thor's better than I am," he said, instead of answering._

"_Your brother excels at certain things, and you at others. Thor being better at a thing doesn't mean that you aren't any good at it."_

_Loki shrugged again, still not meeting here eyes. _

"_And besides," Frigga continued, "Thor does practice more, and he's older. You'll get there in time."_

"_No I won't!" Loki exclaimed, startling her, "I started younger than Thor did, and I can't even come close to what he could do. They just push and push and push and Thor laughs and the teachers look at me like I'm doing something wrong but I _can't_ try any harder. I _can't_. And I _just don't want to go_."_

_His voice broke then, and he ducked his face down into his arms on the table._

_Frigga's decision was nearly immediate._

_Setting aside her work, she reached across the table and lightly touched the boy's shoulder._

_Giving a shuddering breath, Loki straightened. His eyes were still wet with the barely-checked tears and his mouth was set in a thin line, fully expecting her to say that he must go and he must try and it was his duty to excel as was expected of him, and everything that he'd been told a thousand times over._

_It was enough._

"_Then you don't have to go,"_

_He blinked and looked up at her like he thought she might be joking._

_She wasn't. Loki wasn't made to fight the way they were trying to train him. The training they were applying was perfect for Thor, Thor and his berserk battle-rage. But not Loki. Loki was more suited to the older style, a style that was more beautiful – relying on agility and precision and balance and speed over the strength and ferocity demanded by the new – and a style that had largely been lost. Frigga had wondered if she might train anyone in her lifetime. _

_Regardless of what his father was sure to say, Frigga was going to train her son._

_She rose and held out her hand._

"_Come with me."_

_~.~_

"_How could you say that to him?"_

"_You coddle the boy too much."_

"_I –" Frigga was too angry to rightly sort out her thoughts, "He cares for nothing but to please you!"_

_With a sigh, Odin turned and took both of her hands in his own, "And he does."_

"_You could say as much to him,"_

"_Frigga," he released her hands, "Do you not understand?"_

_Frigga shook her head, anger dissolving to a kind of frustrated confusion, "I understand that he has a gentle heart and that your silence hurts him,"_

"_And if that is all it takes to wound him, how will he survive as prince in this, our Realm?"_

"_He is but a child!"_

"_A child who will grow into a man. A child who will be swallowed alive by the cruelty of the Realms if he is not made strong."_

"_Odin!" Frigga pulled away from him, "This is not the way to go about it. Strength comes about from nurturing."_

"_In infancy. Loki is no longer an infant, Frigga."_

"_You never were so distant from Thor," she challenged, "And never once did you accuse me of caring too much for him."_

"_Never did Thor have the frailties Loki has. He fought to escape all that would hold him, for better or ill."_

_Frigga felt herself smile, softening, remembering, "Yes," she murmured, "he was born fighting," _

"_And he will have to be handled differently. Loki has skills that Thor will never posses, but for those skills to come to true fruition, he must be taught," he took her hands again, "he must be made strong," _

_Frigga didn't know how to argue with him anymore. She bowed her head._

"_Allow me my ways, my Queen. All will be well in time."_

~.~

Frigga flew from the hall and across the courtyard with her long skirt caught up in both hands. The air was still ringing from the shock of the scream that had come from the Bifrost. Frigga didn't know what had happened. Odin had wakened only moments before, rising from the bed without a word, his armor shimmering to sight in place of his bed-shirt, and had vanished from the room. He had to have gone to help his sons. They had to be alright. Whatever had happened, Frigga had seen the look of grave determination of Odin's face as he went, and the bright snapping of his eyes that she had missed for so long. They _had_ to be alright.

She reached the bridge, catching her breath at the smoldering ruin of it before her eyes would rightly focus and let her find her family.

Then she saw them, Odin and Thor, coming off of the edge of the bridge. Thor was leaning on his father, bent and staggering in a way that frightened Frigga badly. She rushed toward them, "Odin!"

Odin hardly raised his eyes to her, "He is uninjured,"

Something horrible and sharp and cold settled in her chest as she realized, "Where is Loki?"

Thor raised his head, voice thick and dull, "I couldn't reach him," the blue eyes met hers, tears starting haphazardly down his face, then hurriedly looked away. He opened his mouth like he wanted to speak, but closed it again. He pushed roughly away from his father, and went down hard on his knees.

For a moment, her mind was still in shock, "How…?" Then she whirled on Odin, "You could have saved him!" her voice broke as tears started down her own face.

Slowly, Odin shook his head. He seemed very old.

"How could you not save your own son?" She knew her grief and shock were making her unreasonable, but she hardly cared.

Odin took both of her hands, carefully, then said the last three words she had ever expected to hear in her life, "He let go."

Frigga pulled away from him. No. Not Loki. Not – _He let go._ No. Not her sweet, green-eyed, mischievous little boy. _He let go_. He couldn't – "What have I done?" she whispered.

She found herself folded on the ground beside Thor, though she had no memory of moving. She gathered her weeping son in her arms, cradling his head against her collarbone as she had when he was a child – the few times he'd allowed her to comfort him. She dared not sooth him as she once had, because nothing was 'alright', and she could make no promise that it would be ever again.

_He let go._

Loki had always been more given to tears, especially as a little child. If he was angry, or frightened, or hurt or frustrated, he would come to her and she would hold him and sooth him and then, when he was ready, let him go to rejoin the others. Odin had reprimanded her for it, saying that she was making him soft. _Did I do wrong?_ Even as a tiny small thing, Loki had always been easily upset, often wailing for no reason that she or any of her maidens could find, begging to be held and not left alone in the dark.

_He let go_.

_Why_ hadn't she tried harder? He had seemed alright, but _of course_ it had been too much on him. She had failed to see it. So wrapped up had she been in the worry she felt for Odin and for Thor and so secure in the knowledge that Loki could never lie to her that he had slipped away from her completely. She'd forgotten that he could never lie to her because she would notice the details that the others wouldn't, his subtle gestures, the tilt of his head, the cadence of his voice. But she'd been so preoccupied – so lost in her own pain that she had _lost him_.

_Why didn't you come to me?_ He shouldn't have had to. She should've not let him out of her sight, _especially_ after the discovery of his true kind. She should've stayed with him and held him – even against his will – She should have been holding _him_ as he wept out his confusion, instead of Thor who wept out of grief after –

_He let go._

But now there was nothing left to do, but hold onto the son she had left.

So she pulled him fiercely tight to her and let her tears fall into his hair.

~.~

The room was dark and silent. The days long and intolerably monotonous. There were things to do. Frigga was still High Queen of Asgard. She must remain strong for her husband, her son, her people. But she mourned the son she had lost.

She remembered him, small and afraid and so eager to please. She remembered his first steps, first words. She had nursed him when he had been sick – so often when he was small – and had comforted him after his nightmares when he was so small that pride hadn't yet got hold of him and told him it was weak to run to a mother. She remembered his pranks and his tricks – some of which had driven her mad – and the glitter in his eyes when he laughed.

He had been so full of joy and passion and wonder, so full of life.

But whenever she thought of that, she remembered the dark in him too. The hero-worship turned jealousy toward his brother, his impulsiveness that rivaled that of Thor, and his dark, brooding moods that had sent him so often into hiding.

She remembered his quick tongue. He always knew what to say to right a thing – or to start a fight – she'd reprimanded him sternly for that (_"You have a gift with words, Loki, use it to better the Realms, not to hurt others. I don't care _what_ they did, Loki. It's not alright to lie like that!"_)

But even through it all, all the pain and the betrayal and the passion behind everything, ever since the first time she'd taken the tiny Jotun foundling into her arms, he'd been her son. And a mother cannot forget.

She remembered how he used to come to her, face carefully blank, and sit near her while she worked. She had learned better than to press him when he would come to her like that. Occasionally, he would speak, but most often he would sit silently, sometimes pretending to read, often just watching her and her work. After a time, he would rise, kiss her lightly on the forehead, and leave without a word.

Once, she had asked him about it. He had shrugged and told her that being around her calmed him.

Often he would speak to her, being honest in a way he was with precious few.

He had trusted her as he trusted no one else. (Yet still you lied to him. No wonder he wouldn't speak to you at the end. No wonder he let go.)

She remembered a time when he was nearing manhood and they had fought – it was a thing that rarely happened – Loki didn't like to fight about things, not like Thor. Often he wouldn't speak at all – she suspected for that very reason. She remembered how they had quarreled – over what she had no recollection – but she remembered how Loki had stormed out and she had let him go. He had not come to her at all all during that day, and by dinner-time she had begun to regret her words. She had been thinking on it as she went into her rooms to dress for dinner in the hall that night when she had been startled by a soft glow on her dressing-table. Looking up, she had seen a vase of night-lilies, glowing silvery in the dimly lit room. There were precious few who had clearance into the room, and she had twisted one into her hair.

When she had gone down, she had seen Loki across the room. He saw the flower, and she knew she had guessed rightly. She had smiled at her boy, and he'd smiled back across the crowded table, knowing all was well between them.

Always, these days, she expected Loki to come out from one of the libraries, lost and brooding in his thoughts. She expected him to stride in from the stables, to tell her of some new adventures or trick. She expected to look up from her work and find him sitting perched somewhere in the room – having entered on feet too silent for her to hear. She woke at night thinking that she could feel his cold hands tugging at her – seeing his bright eyes wide and teary with fear and his thumb thrust into his mouth as the dreams faded. She thought often in the night that she heard him coughing and tossing in his little bed – sick again with the fever so common to him – or crying out for her in his infant's voice.

Frigga strode in her gardens, breathing the sweet air of the flowers in the thick air of the night. She saw the glow of the night-lilies, and she wept.


End file.
